What Might Have Been
by ShadowRosePoet
Summary: "You know," said Hermione, looking up at Harry, "that really is extraordinary magic!"Fred could feel his ears burning with delighted embarrassment. Such high praise from the smartest witch he knew filled him with pride. "For that, Hermione," he said cheerfully, "you can have one for free." - An alternate look at what might have happened if Hermione and Fred had caught feelings.
1. An Unfortunate Injury (1)

A Fortunate Injury

Business was booming! There was hardly room to squeeze through the shop for all the bodies pressed together. Yet, Fred still recognized his little brother's tall and awkward form fighting the crowd as he moved through the room. The dark- haired Harry was just visible through the same crowd, and a cloud of frizzy curls was another step behind. As the three grew nearer to Fred's place by a new display of products, he began to catch the line of their conversation.

"You know," said Hermione, looking up at Harry, "that really is extraordinary magic!"

Fred could feel his ears burning with delighted embarrassment. Such high praise from the smartest witch he knew filled him with pride.

"For that, Hermione," he said cheerfully, "you can have one for free."

He swept one off the shelf and handed it to her, beaming brightly at his little brother's best girl friend. Although, considering how much time she had spent with them over the last five years, Fred found himself more inclined to simply think of her as Hermione Granger.

"How are you, Harry?" Fred asked, grasping the boy's hand in a firm, brotherly handshake. Harry nodded, though he looked far too tired for a boy of 16. Fred couldn't blame him for looking over-worn, and knew better than to ask the reason. Instead, Fred turned his attention to Hermione, really taking in her appearance for the first time. "And what happened to your eye, Hermione?"

Her eye was abloom with the blue and purple of a fine bruise, making her look as though she had been in quite a fight. He was torn between feeling proud and slightly worried.

"Your punching telescope," she said ruefully, her mouth quirked in the smallest of smirks.

"Oh blimey, I forgot about those," he said, chuckling. "Here -"

He handed her a small tub of ointment from the pocket of his bright magenta work robes. She took it from him hesitantly, and he found himself thinking that her hands were small and soft.

"Just - uhh…" he cleared his throat, "Just dab it on, that bruise'll be gone within the hour." When she looked skeptical he continued, "We had to find a decent bruise remover." Then suddenly he was bragging, "We're testing most of our products on ourselves."

"It is safe, isn't it?" Hermione asked. Fred could hear the anxiety in her voice. She was looking at the thick yellow paste, so she didn't see his shifting reaction as he ran his hand through his hair.

"'Course it is," he told her, surprisingly upset that she didn't trust him. Aware of his own strange reaction, he turned to Harry and quickly said, "Come on, Harry, I'll give you a tour." As he lead the messy-haired boy toward the back of the store, Fred stole a final glance at the young witch as she gently dabbed ointment on her afflicted eye.

Meeting with George made Fred feel considerably more steady. The twins happily showed their hard work to the boy savior. Though the two would die before admitting it, they were very proud of their more serious line of Dark Arts defense products. Dead tired they were, trying to meet the demand, but they were keeping people alive. And better and more important than that, through jokes and cute charms, they made sure people were really living.

Even as Harry commented on how handy their defensive products were, Fred found himself thinking of Hermione's compliment. He had always loved what he and George did, but he had never felt so proud.

Verity's voice broke through his reverie. George bid them farewell and left in a rush to fill an order for a joke cauldron. Fred continued Harry's tour, moving them back to the main floor. Straight away they ran into Hermione and Ginny still looking at the Daydream Charms. Hermione's brow was puckered thoughtfully as she read the box. Ginny pointed out something in a low whisper, and Hermione's face bloomed into blushing giggles.

'Laughter looks good on you, Granger,' Fred thought with a smile. He beckoned the two girls over.

"Haven't you girls found our special WonderWitch products yet?" Fred asked, mischief dancing in his eyes. He could already envision the potential embarrassment, or the vague possibility of interest.

"Follow me, ladies…"

Immediately he knew he had misjudged their reactions. Instead of blushing, laughter, or interest, the expressions on the two girls turned wary and a bit sour.

"Best love potions you'll find anywhere!" He boasted, yet they remained unamused. George jumped in at that moment, back from the order. He managed to steer the mood of the conversation even further south.

"But we're not selling them to our sister!" He interjected sternly.

Ginny deflected, growing temperamental. Fred saw Hermione hiding a small, knowing smile behind her hand, and found himself jumping into the grilling of his baby sister's love life.

The next few moments moved far too quickly for Fred's liking. He was suddenly arguing with Ron, who had the nerve to think he could just take things without paying. Fred laughed when his mother caught the idiot flipping him the bird.

Then Harry elbowed Hermione and they looked out the window as a boy with white-blonde hair hurried by. Fred was sure that he was the only one who saw the three sixth years disappear beneath Harry's cloak.

Fred smiled and wished them well, Then he turned back to his mother and started giving her the grand tour.

"I can't believe Ginny. She's far too young to be dating," George complained. He was reclining on the plush brown couch that took up a significant part of the main room of their flat. Nursed in his left hand was a bottle of butterbeer.

In spite of himself, Fred chuckled lightly.

"She's not so young anymore, Georgie. I was already dating Angelina. And you were snogging Katie behind the broom shed…" Fred's mind drifted through some memories.

"But we're not Ginny…" George retorted.

"No, most assuredly not. She's far smarter. And you know she can certainly take care of herself. We've taught her plenty well for that. Besides… I doubt they will be together for long. She's far too much of a firecracker for that kid." Fred responded, and George nodded his agreement.

Fred probably would have been more upset by her sister's maturity, except that Granger wasn't much older, and she had turned into quite the young woman. He felt he should be more concerned about his feelings for Hermione, but for some reason he wasn't. She had been around so much in the last few years. They had talked, and gotten to know each other. They were friends at least.

"I suppose." George finally said, breaking through Fred's thoughts.

After a moment something seemed to dawn on George, and a wild grin erupted on his face.

"You know who else isn't young anymore?"

Fred turned his face away from his twin, pretending to be very busy with the paperwork on the small desk before him. He felt his face heating up even before George finished his thought.

"That Granger certainly has grown up… and she no longer seems to have a stick up her bum. She even complimented your daydream charm." George couldn't hide the glee in his voice.

"She did indeed George…" Fred replied curtly, writing notes on a new experimental sweet they were set to work on the following week.

"And you broke up with Angie quite a while ago, so you are both gloriously unattached." George pressed, giving voice to the thoughts that Fred had already been mulling over.

"Yes. I suppose we are. And yet." Fred replied. He fiddled with the quill in his hand, running it against the underside of his chin.

"And yet there is Ronnikins. Adorable little Ronnikins who can't see his own crush to save his life."

"Exactly, George. Which is why I shouldn't, right?" Fred asked, not wanting to hear the he answer. His voice was gruff, however.

"Ron is a grown boy. If he can't ask a girl out, he has no rights to her." George replied, surprising Fred into raising his head from his work. The twins' eyes met, and Fred grinned slowly.

"Right you are, brother mine." He said, and his work was suddenly forgotten in favor of a very different type of planning. He leaned back in his chair and pondered. Even after George got up to retire for the night, Fred sat there, thinking of what could be.


	2. Daydreams (2)

Daydreams

Hermione was tired of hearing about Draco Malfoy. Harry had spent the evening putting forth theory after theory about what they had seen at Borgin and Burkes. Finally, she was pushed beyond the limits of her patience. Harry refused to listen to reason, and Hermione could think of several ways she would rather spend her time than trying to convince her friend to see reason.

So it was that she had bid the two boys goodnight and left to return to the room she shared with Ginny. She was just about to go in when she heard voices beyond the door. Ginny was arguing heatedly with Fleur.

"Can't you just let mum alone? She has run this household forever. Keep your nose out!"

"I on'ee made some suggestions!"

Hermione turned back and headed downstairs.

The kitchen was dark and quiet. Mrs. Weasley had gone to bed over an hour before. The smell of dinner, pot roast and potatoes, still hung heavy in the air. Hermione was glad she had her bag with her, and she settled herself at the table and pulled out her book. It seemed like a lovely time to do some reading. As she drew the book out, a little box also tumbled out of her bag.

Hermione had completely forgotten about the daydream charm she had gotten from the joke shop. The box felt light in her hands, and she shook it lightly. Something small jingled around. She opened it carefully, still wary of the potential for trickery.

Inside, she was surprised to find a little necklace. A braided leather cord held a small metal circle. On the circle, she could make out a rune. It was the symbol laguz, she recalled from her studies. It was for imagination. Once again she was struck by how clever the boys were, taking advantage of the inherent magic of rune words, and enhancing them with a small spell of their own.

Feeling curious and more than a little reckless, she decided to try it. As a prefect, she had spent so much time legislating the twins that she hadn't had much time to appreciate all the work that went into what they did. Not to mention, she had no desire to make herself sick by way of their sweets. But this was different. Daydreaming was nice and safe.

She tied the necklace around her neck, and felt the cool charm settle on the skin of her neck hollow. It was light, almost weightless. She felt no magic at first. For several moments she wondered if anything would happen.

Then she noticed she was no longer in the kitchen. She was up in the room she shared with Ginny, curled up in a large armchair by the window, reading her favorite book. Had she just fallen asleep and dreamt about the charm? It wouldn't have surprised her. Her life had been so hectic lately, with the constant research for Harry, and the struggle to keep up on school work. But why didn't she remember coming up to read for fun?

Hermione realized slowly that she was not alone on the plushy chair. She was curled up with her back against a warm body. Someone wrapped an arm around her, hugging her closer, and she felt comfortable. The person's other hand played with a curl of her hair. She looked down to see the arm was pale and freckled. It was at this moment that Hermione was sure it was the daydream charm. Ron was probably not the type to cuddle her as she read, even if she sometimes wanted him to.

She felt as though this moment of comfort stretched on for some time. She read, or pretended to read, as the strong warm fingers drew lazy circles on her arm. She was distracted by the gentle tug at her curls, and once she could have sworn she heard a voice whisper "boing".

"Of course I am dull enough to just be reading…" she said to herself. She didn't realize she had said it within the daydream until a playful voice responded.

"You're not dull at all. You're adorable when you're reading."

Hermione jumped out of the chair with lightning speed. It was not Ron's voice who had responded. It was not Ron's eyes into which she was now staring.

"Surprise?" Fred questioned, his brow furrowed slightly. He looked sad at their loss of contact, and struggled to sit up. "I didn't think you were so deep in your reading that you forgot I was here."

"Fred, why are you here? I thought…" Hermione couldn't figure out what to say. Her face grew warm with embarrassment.

"What do you mean, why am I here? We were spending some time together. You're always so busy, and we had a moment to ourselves." He responded, as though this were just a normal response. He reached out and grabbed her hand. His work-calloused hand felt strange on her own. It felt rough, but it also felt right. Almost against her better judgement, she found her fingers intertwining with his. He was sweet, and smart. He paid attention to her when she talked, and valued her opinion (even if he often had to ignore it to pursue his fun).

She shook her head. This wasn't real. What was she doing, trying to rationalize these feelings? She was finally beginning to understand. Of course a charm she got in a joke shop was going to be a joke. It wasn't a daydream of her own creation. It was manufactured by the boys. I wonder how many girls had gone to daydream of their boyfriends or crushes only to see Fred or George Weasley. She wished she was more frustrated, but at a certain level she could still only see it as clever. It was one thing to create a daydream charm that was nearly undetectable and felt so real, it was another to be able to manipulate the content of those daydreams. She would have to ask them how they did it.

In the meantime she returned to the chair, and read her favorite book for the duration of the daydream. Fred sat on the bed nearby, watching her with a puzzled expression. She found herself comforted by his presence, even as she was confused by it.

When the charm finally ended, she moved to take off the necklace, but found herself pausing. It was simple, and pretty, and she liked the rune sign. Not to mention, in these times everyone could use a reminder to hold on to their dreams and imagination.

Author's Note: I just love the idea of Fred and Hermione together, and if you've come this far I bet you do too. Not that Ron's a problem or anything, but everything just fell so nicely and simply into place. I think this would have been more interesting.


	3. A Bright Sunny Failure (3)

A Bright Sunny Failure

Sunday morning came far too soon for Fred. He had spent the night planning and daydreaming, and had only been asleep for a few hours when George shook him awake. Sundays were the days they went to the Burrow for breakfast, because the shop didn't open until noon. He sat up, bleary eyed and exhausted. He ran his hands through his hair, fluffing the sleep matted locks.

He could hear George cleaning up the flat as he pulled on his pinstriped pants. The clink of butterbeer bottles as they were set in the rubbish bin made a strange sort of musical addition to his morning. The close of cabinets and the whistle of the tea kettle added to the sounds of normalcy. For a moment, Fred could almost feel like this was the easy life he and his brother had always dreamed about. For just a moment, thoughts of war didn't hang at the edges of his thoughts.

His blue shirt, the color of a clear summer sky, matched the stripes in his pants. It felt good to be able to look professional and put together. Fred had never felt particularly disadvantaged by all the things his family didn't have. Money was nothing compared to family, friends, and laughter. But he had to admit that it was nice to worry less about where clothes and food would come from. The joke shop definitely had perks beyond the fun.

He slipped on his shoes and bounded down the stairs from his room. His twin looked up and smirked when he saw him.

"You look like you got electrocuted." George said, pouring hot water into the two tea mugs on the counter. He handed a bright orange mug bearing the Chudley Cannon's logo to Fred.

"Ah, Merlin…" Fred grumped, and started fixing his hair in the reflection of the spoon from his tea. It took a few moments to get his thick hair under control, but finally he felt he might look presentable.

"I gave you Pep-Up tea. I figured you could use the energy, brother mine." George said, sipping at his own tea. His cup bore the symbol of the Holyhead Harpies.

"Thanks. That sounds great." Fred replied, sipping at his own tea. The hot citrus flavor was surprising, since he rarely took any tea other than Earl Grey. Instantly he started to feel more alive, despite his lack of sleep.

"Let's go, brother. Time to face the Burrow. And the girl." George said, glancing at their clock. The old grandfather unit stood tall and proud in their apartment, but the face had been modified to tell them if they were early, late, extremely late, or on time. It recorded this not only for them, but also for their various family members. They felt this worked better for them than the style of clock their mother had. They both had a habit of running behind. And even now their hands were both very close to ticking into the late category. So away they apparated, into the morning.

Hermione was already annoyed. Her daydream from the previous evening was still floating around in her head, and she was exploding to give Fred and George a piece of her mind. On top of that, Harry was still looking very worked up and Ron looked exhausted. She had a feeling the two of them probably spent the entire night talking about what Draco Malfoy might be up to. Harry kept trying to make meaningful eye contact with her, and she was dutifully avoiding his gaze. She just couldn't take anymore of Harry's theories.

At some level, though she would never admit it out loud, Hermione felt that what had happened at the Ministry was because Harry couldn't keep his nose out of the adventure. She would have hoped that he might have changed after that experience. But the incident seemed to fill Harry with a new sense of heroism, rather than diminishing his aspirations. Hermione understood his feelings. She could even understand the desire to get back at Malfoy, since it was his family who was doing so much of the damage to Harry's life. But to go so far as to think that 16 year old Draco Malfoy was a Death Eater? It just seemed so far-fetched. Almost as far-fetched as a 16 year old savior.

She shook her head and sighed. Then she realized she was sitting at the breakfast table, and everyone had turned to look at her. Just as her cheeks began to heat up she heard two cracks that signalled the arrival of the twins. They were both dressed in their Sunday best, pinstriped pants and shirts in fun, bright colors, with a bouquet of flowers for their mother. The bright yellow and orange carnations put an instant smile on the Weasley matron's face. They both gave her a kiss in greeting, and took their seats at the table, as natural as the days they lived there.

Hermione finally looked up at Fred, peeking through her morning mess of curls, and she was surprised to find him looking back at her. He quickly turned away when he realized they had locked eyes, and made a show of joining the conversation George was having with their father. But she could see him stealing glances at her from time to time.

After enduring this through her morning toast, Hermione had finally reached a boiling point in her frustration. She pushed her plate away, eggs and sausages untouched, and left the room. She could no longer stand the looks, the whispered conversation between Harry and Ron, and pretending she was alright.

Mrs. Weasley looked after her with worry, but the motherly woman decided not to comment. She knew the children were under immense amounts of stress, what with the incident at the Ministry still so recent. It seemed no one else had noticed, except for the tall redhead whose gaze followed her out of the room.

Back in her room, Hermione began packing some of her things. The act of finding all of her books and stacking them in her trunk was calming. She was so busy with her work that she didn't realize that someone had come to stand in the doorway. So, when she turned to see one of the twins watching her she squeaked with horror.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you. You were just so focused, you didn't hear when I said your name." the boy told her quietly, looking almost bashful.

Hermione realized it was Fred upon closer inspection. He was slightly more angular in the face than his twin, and he paid more attention to the set of his hair. It was always parted toward his left eye, and left to look sort of messy-on-purpose, as though he didn't truly care about it.

"Yeah, I guess I was." Hermione replied. She quickly ran her fingers through her hair, trying to tame her mane of curls. She winced a few times as she caught her fingers on her curls. "What's up? Why are you standing there?" She asked, looking away from him. For a moment she wondered if she was suffering from some residual daydream charm.

"I...uh, I noticed you were wearing the necklace still…" He said, pointing even though she wasn't looking at him. "I was just wondering how it went. Those are still pretty new, so product reviews would really help us."

"I guess I stick by my original statement. It's an extraordinary piece of magic. It was awfully clever of you guys to be able to create daydreams in the first place, let alone control the content of them." She paused and peeked at him to see if his reaction gave him away. She was surprised to see his face pucker in confusion. "I wonder if you've gotten anyone angry, thinking they would just dream about their crushes, and instead getting one of you two. I know I was a little put-off. Caught off guard, I guess... It's just a rather hurtful trick!" Her words tumbled from her unexpectedly. She hadn't realized how agitated she had become until the feelings were already on their way out.

Fred's expression was unreadable as Hermione turned to look him fully in the eyes. For a moment she thought she saw the ghost of a smile in his eyes, but the next moment it was gone. He shook his head and ran his fingers through his hair.

"Sorry if it upset you Hermione. I am glad you still think it's good magic, though. I guess we're just too clever for our own good. I'll let George know we should make some that are less conceited," he said. He broke eye contact with her suddenly, looking around the room.

"I hope you and Ginny have a good year...I...uh, George and I brought you guys this basket of goodies to get you through the first part of the year. 5th and 6th year are full of studying, after all." Fred handed her a basket wrapped in sparkling blue paper. "It's got sugar quills, and chocolate frogs, another couple daydream charms, and some nice parchment. I thought you especially might like that."

Hermione accepted the basket with a smile, and Fred felt his heart flutter. They stood in awkward silence for a long 30 seconds. He said a short goodbye and left the room. He couldn't believe he had chickened out so horribly.

"So, how'd the present go, brother mine?" George asked, standing in the doorway of Percy's old room.

"I told her it was for Ginny and her to share…" Fred replied, and George groaned in sympathy.

"I just couldn't… she thought we had tricked her." As he said it, he couldn't hold in his emotions any longer. "Georgie… she thought the daydream charms were tricks that made people see us."

"You mean?" George smiled, a smile mirrored by his twin.

"She had a daydream about me. She likes me too, George. Even if she doesn't know it yet." Fred's heart felt like it could fly.


	4. Little Sisters and Big Worries (4)

Little Sisters and Big Worries

The evening before they left, Hermione had gestured to a big gift basket, mumbling something about Fred leaving it as a gift, before she fell asleep. Ginny had looked through the basket in curiosity, hoping her brother had left something good. However, as she looked through the basket she got the distinct feeling that it wasn't really meant for her. There were more of the daydream charms, which the boys had warned her off of. There was parchment, which she was not at all interested in. Even the candy was much more the type that Hermione liked.

The thing that cemented it, however, was the letter at the bottom of the basket. Ginny knew she shouldn't snoop, but she was overcome with why a basket from Fred and George would have a letter addressed to Hermione. So she very carefully and quietly opened it. She had learned well from her trickster brothers, after all.

 _Hermione,_

 _I wanted to wish you a happy year. Don't stress yourself out studying too hard. Even though you probably will. But if you didn't, you wouldn't be the Hermione we all adore. If you ever have a bit of free time, however, I wanted to ask if you'd like to pop on over for a bit of lunch at some time. Maybe at your first Hogmead weekend. Or sooner, if you want. It's up to you. Just let me know._

 _Troublingly yours,_

 _F._

Ginny looked over at Hermione's quietly sleeping form. The bushy-haired girl couldn't possibly know about the contents of this letter. She wouldn't have just calmly gone to sleep if she had. Unless she did. Unless this wasn't the first. Ginny shook her head. Of course this was the first. Hermione would have told Ginny instantly if she was dating Fred. Just as Ginny told the other girl each time she had started dating a new boy.

So this was a new development. Fred, still newly single from his time with Angelina, was now setting his eyes on the brightest witch of the age. But he was chickening out. He had left the basket as "for both girls", and had asked her to lunch in a letter instead of doing it in person. Ginny could only see one reason for that. Fred didn't get scared often. He must really like her. He was head over heels.

Would Hermione say yes, though? Somehow, Ginny felt she knew the answer. The smart, bushy-haired girl had never even spoken a word about Fred. It had always been Ron, though the boy was too dumb to see it. Ginny could feel her head pounding with the complication. Even so, she could see the merit in Fred's line of thinking. He was a very smart guy, despite having a streak of trouble ten miles long. They would definitely challenge each other. And anyone would admit that Fred was much more thoughtful, observant, and even more exciting than the youngest Weasley boy.

Ginny put the letter back in the envelope and resealed it. Things were about to get interesting. Indeed they were. And Ginny, very much the twin's favorite sister, was quite ready to see where things would go.

The moment Hermione read the letter, Ginny knew it. The mischief-minded girl had left the newly sealed letter right at the top of the basket. She had also left the basket right on top of Hermione's trunk so that the girl would have to deal with it straight away. She squeaked like a mouse that had been trodden on, and threw the letter down as though it had burned her.

Ginny watched her through barely open eyes, pretending to be asleep. She could see Hermione pacing back and forth, wringing her hair while she was deep in thought. Then, the girl did something strange. She took one of her own curls and pulled it down, then released it. Ginny could have sworn she heard Hermione whisper "boing", and then her face turned absolutely cherry red.

"Oh my…" She whispered, and Ginny felt like she was going to burst out laughing. She moved to cover her mouth, but it was enough motion to grab Hermione's attention.

"Ginny!"

"Everything okay, Hermione?" Ginny asked, looking as innocently as she could manage.

"I...yes? Maybe? I'm not sure…" Hermione stumbled and stuttered, a thing she rarely did. This news had really thrown the poor girl for a loop. Ginny wondered if she was going to have to go on pretending she had no idea.

"Ginny, have any of your brothers ever talked about me?" Hermione broached the subject diplomatically.

"Yeah, of course they have Hermione. You're brilliant. And Ron's best friend. You come up in conversations occasionally. Do you mean something more specific?" Ginny could feel the secret welling up inside her. The question gave her pause, however. Had Fred ever given an indication that he liked Hermione as more than a friend? They had done a good deal of talking over the summer. Ginny had spent a lot of time with the twins, trying to avoid Fleur and her mum. Had Fred ever mentioned it?

"I mean...do you think any of them like me?" Hermione asked, losing diplomacy all together.

"Hmm...I'm not sure." Ginny was honest in this response, still trying to think of a moment that might hint at the beginnings of this infatuation.

"Do you think they'd joke about it?" Hermione asked, and surprisingly she picked up the letter and held it out for Ginny to read.

"No, Hermione. That's definitely not something they would do." Ginny was reassuring as she took the letter and pretended to read it. "Fred would not joke about something like that. He's much more of a romantic than you might give him credit for."

"Ginny…" Hermione groaned loudly and threw her hands over her face. "I said something incredibly stupid yesterday."

"Oh? That's not like you, Hermione." She replied with a bright chuckle.

"I told him his Daydream charms were conceited...because I had thought about him," she whispered, her right hand reaching back up towards her hair. "But...I...thought he had tricked me. I thought they had rigged the charms. But..." Her words trailed off.

"Well, at least he likes you too. Even if you were a stick in the mud about his charm." Ginny said, now laughing.

Hermione laid back with her head on the floor, hands still stifling her face. However, Ginny was sure she could hear the girl giggling just slightly. She sat on the floor next to the girl and patted her knee reassuringly. This just made the girl laugh even harder, and Ginny joined in until they were both laughing with tears in their eyes.

Catching her breath, and quite red in the face, Ginny finally was able to speak, "So what now?"

"Well, I suppose… I suppose I send him a letter and apologize for being so daft. And we set up a date!" Hermione gasped between breaths. Ginny hugged her friend excitedly. This wasn't the outcome she had expected, but by golly she was for it!


	5. A Series of Interruptions (5)

A Series of Interruptions

The best laid plans, even of Hermione Granger, still go awry. Though it was her absolute intention to send Fred an owl right away, she had so many things to do. After collecting themselves from their fit of laughter, she and Ginny had to quickly pack up the final bits of their school belongings. Hermione carefully and blushingly found a place for her gifts from Fred, and then she was suddenly piling her trunk and the basket with Crookshanks into the back of a Ministry provided car.

"Au revoire, 'Arry" Fleur called after them throatily, placing a kiss on the boy's cheek. Ron ran forward eagerly, hoping he too would be so lucky. He didn't make it all the way to the ethereal girl, however, as Ginny stuck her foot out and tripped him. Hermione felt strange in that moment, but it was because she was feeling an absence of care. It was odd, not to care that Ron looked at Fleur with such longing. She continued to watch him, as he picked himself up from the dirt with mumbled goodbyes and retreated, red-faced, to the car. She waited for something to hit her, and yet she remained blissfully unmoved.

"Sometimes that brother of mine can be quite a dummy." Ginny whispered as she climbed into the seat next to Hermione. The girls had decided to ride with Mrs. Weasley to avoid Ron's post-embarrassment anger.

"Well, it would be hard to turn away from someone who literally radiates beauty and charm." Hermione said, ever his friend in defense.

"Even if that's his brother's future girl? That's not someone you keep fawning over, Hermione." Ginny shot back. Hermione remained silently thoughtful at those words.

"Oh, Ginny please!" Mrs. Weasley cried from the front seat, "Don't take it for a done deal. Maybe we can still convince Bill to go for Tonks. She just needs some time to recover, then she'll be right as rain for him."

"Mum, you know that's not true." Ginny replied. Hermione got the feeling that the red-headed girl knew something, but Ginny didn't choose to elaborate, and Mrs. Weasley did not pursue the matter further.

The ride to King's Cross seemed to take no time at all, but everything kept moving forward at a blurring speed. Once they arrived, Ministry officials all but pushed Harry through the barrier, and then rushed the Weasley's and Hermione along after him. Once inside, Hermione remembered that she and Ron had to go to the Prefect's carriage and get their assignments for train monitor duty. She felt a twinge of guilt that she and Ron had to abandon Harry, who was still stewing about Draco's plot, but not so much that it was eating at her.

"Malfoy's not here…" Ron muttered as they entered the Prefect's carriage. They seemed to be the last to arrive, and it was entirely true that the blonde Slytherin was nowhere to be seen.

"Well, it wouldn't be the first time he's shirked his duties. We both know he's not always the best about following a schedule." She whispered back. Ron nodded, but his brow was knit in a skeptical way.

"Don't get pulled into Harry's wild ideas now. Draco's probably just skipped. He's not plotting the downfall of the wizarding world." Hermione said, her voice insistent.

"Yeah, I know it. It's just…" Ron trailed off as the Head Girl began to speak about their duties for the term, and handed out early drafts of the Prefect schedules.

Between Draco's non-appearance at the meeting, their corridor patrol, and waiting for Harry, Hermione had barely had time to think beyond the moment. The sorting passed without much attention on her part, because she was worried sick with where Harry could have disappeared off to. When Harry finally showed up, he was covered in blood, though he sat down as though nothing were amiss.

Dinner was filled with conversation about the Slug Club, and then there was the surprise of the new teacher appointments. By the time dinner was finally over, Hermione was fit to burst with all the energy she had built up through the day. She hopped up like a bunny, and rushed off to do her duty of showing first years to the Gryffindor tower. However, if she were honest with herself, that wasn't her only motivation for doing her job with such diligence. Her mind had wandered to the letter she wanted to send to Fred several times through the day, but she hadn't yet had any real time to herself to formulate it. This felt like the perfect time to buy herself a moment away from the prying eyes of her friends. It's not that she was embarrassed. She just felt it was new, and not even real yet. Why get anyone's knickers in a twist over it?

Once the first years were settled, she bounded up to her room and pulled out a piece of the stationery he had given her and her lucky quill, and sat on her bed. She stared at the paper, willing the right words to come to her. She had to apologize. She wanted to seem cool. She wanted to be the kind of girl who actually deserved the attention of a boy like Fred. This was far too much to consider for a short letter. It made her head hurt just thinking about it all. Why did this have to be so complicated?

 _Dear Fred,_

 _I got your letter. Thank you for the sweets, and the lovely stationery. I love the canaries printed along the edges. It's beautiful, and they are my favorite bird. I never told you that, so how did you guess?_

 _I'm sorry about what I said about the charms._ _I didn't realize I didn't know_ _I thought you were playing a joke on me. But I guess you weren't._

 _I'm really rubbish at this. The whole dating, liking, being a girl sort of thing. I guess that comes when you're a bookish girl. And now I'm rambling. You must think I'm so odd._

 _Ok! Well, I just wanted to apologize._

 _Best,_

 _Hermione._

 _P.S. If you'd still like lunch with me, I'd be happy to meet you. I'll owl when I get our first Hogsmead date._

Hermione re-read her writing several times. She felt her face heat up each time she reached the end. She had to work up her Gryffindor courage, however, because she felt nauseous about sending it. Every time she stood to take it to the owlry, another of her dorm mates walked in. Padma and Lavender even commented about the redness of her face and asked if she felt alright.

Finally she felt her courage was high enough, and she walked out of her dorm. She made it as far as the common room before she heard a familiar voice.

"Hermione! You disappeared! Are you going to come have a chat with us?" Ron's voice floated across the common room, and he beckoned her toward their favorite chairs near the fireplace.

"I have to do a quick task...I've got to find one of the other prefects and ask when our next meeting is. It's not on our schedule." She lied quickly, knowing Ronald hadn't checked his prefect schedule.

"Oh, alright. Then we'll just catch up in the morning. It's late, and Harry looks like he's about to collapse." Ron said. It was true. The dark-haired boy looked dead on his feet, though he protested Ron's words vehemently.

Hermione left with a small wave, glad for her knowledge of her friend's habits. She didn't know what kept her from telling the boys. Perhaps it was not wanting to jinx a new thing. That certainly sounded right. Another voice in her head interjected that she was worried about hurting Ron's feelings.

"That's a strange thing, though. If Ron wanted to ask me out, he's had loads of opportunity, right?" She whispered to herself as she walked toward the tower where the owl's slumbered. "Why should I think it'd hurt his feelings? He couldn't even ask me to the Yule Ball like a proper date. He's not harboring some secret crush. That's ridiculous."

And yet, she reasoned, she would have said the same thing about Fred Weasley if someone had asked her even two days before.

Most of the way to the owlry, she was pulled out of her thinking by a strange sound. It sounded like glass breaking. She looked up just in time to dodge a teacup, which nearly hit her in the head.

"Oi, it's late little lion girl. You'd better be off to bed! Students shouldn't be roaming the halls. It's not SAFE!" Peeves aimed another cup at her, but she dodged this one more easily.

"Peeves, I am a prefect." She replied simply, not wanting to give him extra material. She knew she couldn't boss him about, but she hoped that would at least stop him from crying out.

"Oooh, a prefect. I am sooo scared. I'm quaking in my boots. Here, catch!" He said, and tossed several cups at her at once. In her hurry to catch them, her letter dropped to the floor. Peeves snatched it up before she could grab it, and zoomed upward into the air.

"PEEVES! Give that back, right this instant!" She bellowed, no longer thinking about the quiet evening setting. This just sent Peeves into peals of laughter, as he zoomed about in the air just above her reach.

"Who are you writing to already? You're only just back to school! A parent? A sibling? Does the little lion girl want to go home?" He teased, then glanced down at the envelope. He stopped in his tracks, as though he had hit an invisible wall. His head tilted so far, Hermione thought he might flip right over. Then he dropped the letter back down to her, as though it had burned him. She snatched it out of the air before the poltergeist could change his mind.

"One of the trickster Weasleys. A kindred spirit in the pursuit of buffoonery and wisecracks." He said, suddenly waxing poetic. He drifted off, more calm than Hermione had ever seen the playful spirit.

She didn't take the time to wait for things to change again. She rushed the rest of the way to the owlry, and called down one of the school owls quickly, before she could change her mind.

"Please, take this to Fred Weasley." She told the barn owl, and she watched as he flew off with her letter clenched tightly in his beak.

Author's Note - I'm not planning to hold this out too long, but I am trying to follow some of book 6's original narrative. After this point, I will stop doing so much of that, and really focus on the story I am crafting here. Now I will get into the bones of what might've been different if they had been together.

On another note, I do believe that Hermione wouldn't waste time once she knew someone liked her. She's far too practical for that, and if she liked them back, she's not the type to beat around the bush. She's just busy, being the best friend of the savior of the world, and a student who cares about her grades. But she'd be honest with herself.

I am also not planning for this to be too long in the "keeping it from people" stage. I think waiting to broadcast makes sense, but once Ron's dating Lavender, she'd have no reason to keep the information to herself.


	6. Waiting for the Owl Post (6)

Waiting For The Owl Post

Fred had barely slept a wink. His mind kept playing the scene with Hermione over and over again, and he couldn't believe he had chickened out on telling her the basket was a gift from him. Now he would just have to wait for her to find the letter and make the next move. And pray to whatever god would answer a trickster such as he that she didn't just think it was a silly prank.

Waiting was not the strong suit of Fred Weasley, however. So at 4 in the morning, far before they would even wake up to head to the train for Hogwarts, he found himself trying to stay distracted. He paced the house, and tidied up here and there. He pulled together some of the books he had recently bought for research on a new product he had in mind, and placed them at his desk for when he could concentrate better. He even started to collect and package products for owl-in orders, a job they usually left for Verity.

He thought he had distracted himself enough, but the moment an owl tip-tapped on his window he ran to it. At the window, he was surprised to see old Erol, and he quickly let the bird into the flat. The old owl flopped his way onto the kitchen table, taking a few drinks of Fred's untouched morning tea. Fred carefully took the small note from the bird, and unfurled it quickly. He was more than a little disappointed to see the note written in Ginny's tidy writing.

 _Fred,_

 _Hermione found your note this morning. She laughed so hard she cried. I think she'll write back when she has the time. Sorry, brother._

 _Love,_

 _Ginny_

Fred sank slowly into his chair at the kitchen table. His cowardice had backfired far worse than he had thought, and she thought it was a joke. Or, worse yet, she thought the idea of going on a date with him was too funny to even entertain. At least he had Ginny on his side to give him just a bit of a heads up before he read it in Hermione's own hand. Laughter? He had not expected his favorite sound to also be the sound of his defeat.

"Fred, you alright?" George put a hand on his twin's shoulder. Fred had been sitting as still as the dead for several minutes since George had entered the room. Taking notice of the note in Fred's hand, George could only guess that his brother hadn't gotten the reaction he'd been hoping for. "Did she say 'no', mate?"

"She laughed. Ginny just owled me. She laughed so hard she cried, and she hasn't sent her own reply yet." Fred said sadly.

"Ah, well. At least you tried, brother mine. There are other fish in the sea." George said cheerily, and got up to make breakfast.

"That there are, I know." Fred said. His tone remained neutral, though he still felt quite sad. It was strange, he knew, but he'd been keeping a secret from George. These thoughts about Hermione weren't new. They weren't just about the compliment over the joke products. He'd started to like the witch a while ago. There had been little moments here and there in the past two years.

He remember how pretty she had been at the Yule Ball. He'd even thought to ask her, though he was sure Ron would have done. It had been a shock to see her there with the burly Quidditch star, but not much of one. The girl had started to grow into her immense hair and mature temperament. So he'd gone with Angelina, and for a while he'd forgotten his momentary crush.

By the next year, however, he and Angelina had already discovered they made better friends. They had parted ways amicably, and Fred had once again found himself enamored with the best friend of his younger brother. Especially once they were in the D.A. together. She had developed this wonderful sense of mischief while Umbridge had been at the school. She had shown an appreciation for what Fred had always felt, which was that some rules just got in the way. In many ways, she was still little miss perfect. Perfect grades, perfect behavior, perfect smile…

"Oh Freddie...don't let a girl get you down. Not even Hermione Granger." George could see his brother wasn't bouncing back as easily from this one. It seemed strange to him, since he'd really not seen this as anything more than a bit of a crush. Fred was rarely this broken up about a girl who didn't look his way. Just in the few months they'd lived down in London, he had seen his brother turned down by at least three girls he'd struck up a lively conversation with. They'd all been lovelier girls than the little Granger, although probably far less intelligent.

"George, I cocked it up. Badly. I couldn't tell her, so I let her find out from a note? What was I thinking?" Fred moaned, putting his hands over his eyes, Ginny's letter falling to the table.

"So?" George said, still not understanding.

"So!? I really like her! She's beautiful, and cheeky, and so smart. She stands up for herself, and she's not afraid to do what's right, even if it doesn't make her very popular. And so much more, George! So much...and I cocked it up." The words tumbled from him, and much to his relief his twin didn't seem too mortified by the outburst.

"Wow, sorry mate. I guess you'll just have to wait for her to write, and maybe just talk to her." George said. Fred nodded, because that really was all he could do.

Thus began the longest day of Fred's short life. The clock in the shop crawled through the day. He was dully aware that business was booming, but he moved through it with a mechanical precision he didn't know he was capable of. A gaggle of bright young faces came in, and that pulled Fred from his dreadful state. There was something about kids that made Fred especially cheerful. He loved to wow them with tricks, and surprise them with treats.

"What's this one do, Mr. Fred?" A cute little boy with tightly braided hair asked with a huge toothy smile.

"Those turn into mice when someone tries to use them. Or they flop around like useless twigs." He brandished one of the false wands, and with a pop and a squeak it became a mouse he was holding by the tail. "The next ones we get in, we were told, might even turn into little green garden snakes. Great for scaring sisters." He said with a big wink.

"Or brothers!" A little girl with bright blue eyes piped up. "My brother thinks snakes are the worst, and he screams any time he sees them. Even the little cuties."

"Or brothers," Fred agreed solemnly, "Just try not to scare your parents, or they may not bring you back!"

It was a nice way to spend the afternoon.

Research on his newest product was coming along most swimmingly. After their series on various sickness inducing sweets, he'd had a few plans for some new medicine like treats. His current idea was sweets that would transform you into your Patronus, or your zodiac animal. However, he had learned from the trouble he'd had with the previous series of dosage based magic. So, he had decided to do something unconventional. He was studying medicinal dosages from muggle medical books. There was something to the way doctors compensated for the body's filtering systems that made sense in terms of magic as well.

"The dosage for less magical folks, or for younger children, will have to be less…" Fred said quietly to himself as he took notes. "Since their magic is less likely to filter out our charm. Probably why Harry's cousin had such an intense reaction to the ton-tongue toffee..." He felt rather clever for his cross discipline, and he couldn't help but think it might be a bit impressive to a certain witch as well.

He had managed to make it through much of the day without allowing his thoughts to return to her, but now he had returned to it. It stung a bit, but he felt he could only blame himself. He had been a right coward, and it had cost him.

Tip-tap-tip-tap.

A brown owl scratched insistently at the window. Fred looked at it with confusion for a moment, then realized it was probably a school owl. This was the moment he'd waited for all day. He'd finally see his rejection in Hermione's own hand. He was shaking as he took the note from the owl, and it flew off again as soon as it was relieved of the burden it carried.

Fred could hear his brother moving around in their small kitchen, cleaning up Butterbeer bottles and putting the clean plates in the cupboard. As he read the note, his brows raised up and disappeared into his flaming red hair.

 _Dear Fred,_

 _I got your letter. Thank you for the sweets, and the lovely stationery. I love the canaries printed along the edges. It's beautiful, and they are my favorite bird. I never told you that, so how did you guess?_

 _I'm sorry about what I said about the charms._ _I didn't realize I didn't know_ _I thought you were playing a joke on me. But I guess you weren't._

 _I'm really rubbish at this. The whole dating, liking, being a girl sort of thing. I guess that comes when you're a bookish girl. And now I'm rambling. You must think I'm so odd._

 _Ok! Well, I just wanted to apologize._

 _Best,_

 _Hermione._

 _P.S. If you'd still like lunch with me, I'd be happy to meet you. I'll owl when I get our first Hogsmeade date._

"That absolute prat…" Fred whispered.

"So, she did turn you down, then?" George asked, leaning over with curiosity.

Fred handed the letter to his brother and began to laugh. As George read, he too began to chuckle.

"I will get that sister of ours. I can't believe she let me go through this whole day in such a state!" Fred looked to the ceiling with his oath, but he never dropped his smile.

"Well, I for one am proud. We'd've done the same, I think." George said.

Fred nodded his agreement, then sighed contentedly.

"She said yes, George. She'll go out with me."


	7. Divided Loyalties (7)

Divided Loyalties

The first Hogsmeade visit of the year wasn't until October, so Hermione had plenty of time to think about what would happen next. Several times, often during her evening patrols when her mind had time to wander, Hermione wondered if she was making a big mistake. Fred was two years older than she was, and had dated quite a bit more than she had. What possible interest could she generate for him? Not to mention, they were so different. She was often serious, studious to a fault, and had a great respect for the rules. This was most certainly not the case for the tall red-head.

On the other hand, Fred was a good guy. He was fiercely loyal to his friends and family. He was incredibly smart and creative. He and George made up spells that she would never even conceive of, let alone have the gall to attempt. Fred was an eternal optimist, even as he was an eternal child. There was something endearing about that. Frustrating, but endearing.

While they waited for the day of their lunch to come around, they had been keeping up an occasional correspondence by owl. She told him about school, and how absolutely swamped she was with work and responsibilities. She even felt comfortable enough to complain about all the extra work that Harry and Ron dumped on her, though she assured him it was well within her ability and her desire to help her friends.

She also complained soundly about the "Slug Club". It was just a horrible experience, and she didn't enjoy the feeling of being collected. Not to mention, she still got strange looks from some of the pureblood kids when she talked about her parents, or her non-school interests.

Fred's letters came back with updates on the shop. Now that business was steady, he was finding more time to research new products. He was excited about his current experiments, and said he couldn't wait to show them to her. He was sure she'd be surprised. He assured her that it would be a good surprise.

He also updated her on George and Verity. George was quite the businessman, according to Fred. He was good at keeping books, amazing at witty advertisements, and could put on the highest levels of charisma that could sell almost anything to anyone. Verity, on the other hand, was a diligent worker. The blonde girl had an eye for display, she was willing to work long hours, and she wasn't afraid to tell Fred and George when something wasn't going the way they planned. She also had contributed to several new ideas, and was a willing participant in some of their trials.

All in all, by the time October 16th came around, Fred and Hermione had struck up quite the pen pal friendship. They were comfortable enough to share both victories and defeats, and Hermione always felt that was something important to a friendship. And she firmly believed that a relationship shouldn't begin without a friendship.

The theory of their friendship, and anything more, was to be tested almost immediately, however.

It already sat strangely in Hermione's stomach that she had to make up a lie to get away from Ron and Harry. The only thing worse than telling them the lie was that they ate it up without any question or hesitation.

"Oh, yeah. You enjoy yourself at the bookstore. We'll head over to buy treats for Pig and Hedwig." Ron had said reassuringly, his face flooded with relief that she hadn't suggested the boys come with her. Harry nodded, but kept his lips pursed. Hermione had a feeling they were still mildly on the outs from their discussion over breakfast about the spell from the Half Blood Prince. She could see why he was perturbed, but she couldn't back down from her convictions that the person was bad news.

She watched them walk off, heads down against the chilly October wind. She could hear Ron telling Harry a joke, and caught the last vestiges of laughter as they turned down the other street corner. Finally, she turned to walk toward the Three Broomsticks, where Fred had suggested they meet. It wasn't exactly a hidden location, but they weren't trying to be ridiculous about the whole matter. They were friends, getting together for lunch, and seeing where things might go next.

Hermione stepped into the warmth of the Three Broomsticks with a sigh and a small shake to get rid of the lingering chill. As she took off her knitted cap, she looked around to see if Fred was already there. The sight that she was met with, however, set her blood to boil.

George was the first one to spot her. He elbowed his brother sharply and pointed towards her. She could see him whisper something to Fred, but he was too far away for her to make out what he might have said. They were surrounded by a group of fresh faced third years, out at Hogsmeade for their first ever excursions. The kids were filling out paperwork. It was just like the previous year, when the boys were testing their skivving snackboxes on first years.

"Hermione!" Fred finally called to her, beckoning her over to the table with a sheepish look on his face.

She shook her head no. She could feel her face turning more red as her anger was building. What could she have been thinking. Fred Weasley hadn't grown up. He hadn't changed from the irresponsible boy who was willing to do experiments on young children. Eyes blurred and mind turning with murderous thoughts, Hermione turned and walked back out of the Three Broomsticks, letting the door close loudly and abruptly behind her.

"Hermione! Hermione, wait a second will you! You could at least give me a chance to explain, you know!" She could hear his voice call after her, and she merely picked up her pace. When she felt his hand on her arm, she spun to look him in the eyes. Furious brown eyes met soft amber with an intensity that made Fred let go of her. But he didn't back down.

"Bloody hell, Hermione. Would you let me tell you what's happening. You jump to conclusions faster than my mother and Percy!" He said, his voice gruff with annoyance.

"You're testing your products on students again! How dare you! That's how people get hurt, Fred Weasley." She retorted, and drew herself up tall. He still dwarfed her by about a head of height, but she looked awfully imposing.

"Well, yeah. But they're not the first trial. And I've got a method that's even safer than before, Hermione!" He argued. "That's what I've been waiting to tell you, if you could listen for one Merlin forsaken minute!"

"You were excited to tell me you were testing on students? Of all the half-baked ideas you two…" She was cut off before she could finish.

"No. Stop. Listen. I didn't want to brag about testing on kids. I was excited to tell you that I've been studying drug trial methodology. And I've found ways to change dosages to interact with different levels of magic, whether their due to age and experience, or Squib and Muggle background! I wanted to impress you with my studying… I wanted to show you that I was learning from muggle medicine." He started out with such gusto, but a she continued to stare him down he lost his composure towards the end and got quiet.

"Drug trials?" She repeated, her face still scrunched in confusion.

"Yeah. I ordered a muggle book on scientific methods and drug trials. So that when we made things like the skivving snacks, or anything else with a dosage, I could plan for how to change it for different types of people. It was Harry's cousin, Dudley, who gave me the idea originally. His reaction to the ton-tongue toffee was more intense than we'd seen with any of our other trials. Not that he didn't deserve it, but…" He trailed off, waiting for the reaction.

Her face lost some of the anger, but Hermione remained uncharacteristically quiet. The silence stretched on long enough that even Fred was beginning to believe she was calculating how exactly she could kill him without leaving a trace.

"Earth to Hermione? Uhm, if you're going to murder me, could I at least go say goodbye to George, and let him know how much I love him?" Fred piped up jokingly, trying to break the tension.

"You're an absolute nutter, you know that…" She replied quietly.

"That is what they tell me. And yet, here you are." He replied, his tone forcefully light. Even as he said it, he realized she was indeed still there. She hadn't tried stomping off again.

"Muggle drug trials. Levels of magic? You're a brilliant, bloody lunatic!" She told him, punctuating her thoughts with a prod to his chest. Even through his jacket and sweater, he could feel the sting of her bony finger. But she did something even more unexpected, next. She began to laugh. A great, big, tension releasing belly laugh. It was a wonderful sound to Fred's ears, and he knew she wasn't mad anymore.

"Can we please have lunch while you tell me how smart and wonderful I am?" Fred asked, holding a hand out to Hermione in invitation. She eyed him for a moment, still collecting herself from her laughter, then grasped his hand. They walked all the way back to the Three Broomsticks, fingers intertwined.

"Freddie, I can't believe she didn't curse your rear end off. She was steaming when she saw us." George said as they opened their flat that evening. It had been a productive day, and the twins were happy to be back in their humble abode.

"Oh, believe me...I know it. You should have seen how she looked at me, George. I thought my boys were going to crawl right up into my stomach to hide." Fred replied, his face quite serious. He plunked his bag full of papers onto his desk and then deposited himself onto the couch in the center of their living room.

George joined him a moment later, handing him a glass of some of the elderflower limeade they'd picked up in Hogsmeade, a specialty of one of the witches there.

"She came back, though. You charming dog. I even saw her smiling and laughing. So the date went well?"

"I think so, George. She seemed happy enough. In fact, she thought that all my research was well done. Brilliant, she called it." He said, turning pink with the remembered praise.

"So she's going to let us alone about our work?" George asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.

"She made me promise we'd get their parents permission." He revealed quietly.

"Freddie! Why did you have to go and like a female version of Percy…" George sighed loudly.

"Oh no, dear brother. Percy isn't nearly so cute when he's angry. And his laugh isn't as adorably bell-like. Not to mention… she likes our work. She just doesn't always appreciate our testing. Said so herself. She knows the world needs a bit more laughter. A bit more joy…"

"I'm glad to hear it. I'm also glad to see you so happy. So maybe you won't hex my brows off when I tell you I have a date next week." George said, smiling secretively.

"A date!?" Fred exclaimed. "With who?"

"I'm going out with Angelina. She stepped into the shop on Tuesday while you were out running errands and asked me."

Fred, who had really only liked Angelina as a friend, was happy for his brother. He patted him on the back supportively.

"Glad to hear it, mate. She's a great girl."


	8. Sneaking Out to Meet You (8)

Sneaking Out to Meet You

The weekend of their Hogsmeade trip progressed far too slowly after she left the Three Broomsticks. After her date with Fred, Hermione had met back up with Harry and Ron, and then the day had taken a turn for the terrible. They had been walking back up High Street, ready to return for the castle, when they saw Katie Bell and her friend Leanne arguing over a package.

They both tugged at it, causing the paper to rip. Katie's gloved hand barely touched the necklace that fell from the wrapping, but she instantly began to rise into the air. She looked peaceful for a moment, floating with her arms outstretched like a bird. Just as suddenly, however, she began to look like a girl who'd leapt from a ledge to her demise. Katie's face contorted into one of pain, and she let out a bloodcurdling scream.

Hermione tried to comfort Katie, while making sure nobody touched the mysterious package. When Harry returned with Hagrid, the giant took control of the situation and took the poor girl back up to the castle. Hermione made sure Leanne made it back to the castle with comfort and the gentlest questioning, and then she and the boys were caught up in discussing the possibilities of what happened.

That night she sent an owl to Fred, giving him an update on what had happened. The boy had been Quidditch teammates with Katie, after all, and she was sure they were still friends. Fred had written back a very short letter in reply:

 _Hermione,_

 _Are you free tomorrow evening? Even if you're not, say you are. Evenings are a great time to think by the lake. 8 o'clock?_

 _Troublingly yours,_

 _Fred_

She wrote back without hesitation to say that she was caught up on all her homework, actually. She couldn't promise that Monday wouldn't hold more homework, but her evening looked fairly free. Especially because Harry had a meeting with the Headmaster. She expected to get a response from Fred that gave her an idea of his thoughts, but that didn't come. She wondered why he would want to meet her by the lake.

The day stretched on slowly, but finally evening came. Before Harry bid them farewell, Hermione asked if she could borrow his cloak. If Harry was surprised by the request, he didn't show it. He ran up the stairs and retrieved the cloak, and handed her the silvery fabric without so much as a question. He gave her a small smile, said his goodbyes, and ran off to his meeting.

He was looking more and more peaky these days, as though he were not sleeping well. Hermione knew, from Ron, that he still had dreams about Sirius from time to time. He still wondered what was beyond the veil, and if they could have saved the man from his fate. Hermione also knew that Harry could hold on to something that he was after until it got him into trouble. Such was his recent obsession with the actions of Draco Malfoy.

Hermione left Ron with her charms essay to copy, knowing it would keep him from worrying too much about her. He was working really hard lately, and she knew he was struggling with the higher level charms work more than he wanted to let she slipped out of the common room, mentioning the possibility of popping into the library to look up more work on wordless incantations. Ron nodded and smiled at her, then turned his attention to his work.

"At least sneaking is much easier with the cloak," Hermione said quietly to herself, "and I won't have to risk being caught. Oh the rumors, Hermione Granger is sneaking out to the lake at night." She laughed quietly to herself. She quickly had to silence herself, however, as she saw someone turn the corner in front of her. It was Draco, prowling the stairwell leading down toward the entrance. She wondered for a moment why he'd be there, then remembered he was scheduled for Prefect duties on Monday evenings. She was actually surprised to see him, since he'd been missing many of his meetings and his rounds. She waited for him to finish his checking and head back up the stairs before slipping out the door to the grounds.

The air was crisp and clear. It was a beautiful, cloudless night. The stars stretched on for infinity, and it made Hermione feel small for a moment. She hugged the invisibility cloak around her, and shivered in a way that had little to do with the cold. Sometimes, with all the things going on with Harry and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, she sometimes felt like the world was closing in on her. It was so much, and they were so young. Hermione knew she had no right to feel overwhelmed, because it was all so heavy for Harry. And yet, it was heavy for her as well. It was her people, muggleborns and muggles, who stood to lose so much if they allowed Voldemort to return to power. If they allowed his pureblood mentality to stand, uncontested.

The stars, however, gave her an immeasurable sense of calm. They reminded her that the world was bigger than the wars of wizards. It was filled with beauty and calm. It was filled with wonder. With people like Fred, it was filled with laughter and fun.

Her thoughts turned to Fred because she could make out his outline against the dark, still waters of the lake. The moonlight caressed his red hair and the shoulders of his grey jacket. He was seated on a blanket set out in the grass, and facing away from her. She smiled at the sight of him, and felt the stresses of the last 36 hours starting to fade to a buzz in the back of her mind.

"Hullo, Fred." She said quietly, making him jump. He stood up, looking around for her. He couldn't see her with the cloak on. He reached out, trying to feel for her, but she danced playfully out of his reach.

"Over here," she whispered behind him, "I'm behind you." He turned rapidly, but once again he just barely missed her. Finally, she put him out of his misery and grabbed his hand. She removed the cloak with a flourish, and laughed when his eyes came to rest on her.

"Hermione…" He breathed her name out quietly, and squeezed her hand, but for once in his life he didn't have a thousand things to say.

"Why did you come? I was alright, I just wanted to let you know what had happened. Katie's your friend, so I thought you should know." Hermione asked as Fred lead her back to the blanket he had set out.

Fred was silent for a moment, as though considering his answer. He opened his mouth several times, and then closed it again. She could make out a sheepish look on his face, and could see just a hint of pink on his cheeks by the moonlight. Finally he spoke, and his voice sounded strained.

"Hermione, I was worried. I was worried about you. Your letter got me thinking about how much danger you guys are in. That necklace wasn't meant for Katie. But what if it was meant for…" He trailed off suddenly, looking at her.

"What if it was meant for me?" She asked, incredulously. She had never even considered it. Fred's continued look of worry said he'd done a great deal of thinking about it, however.

"You and Ron are in a lot of danger because of Harry. We all know it. That's why mum is so over the top with trying to keep you out of Order business. And nobody knows what to do about it. You've all got to make your own choices...You've all got to follow your paths in this…" He sounded strangled, unable to say what he was thinking.

"Fred...nothing is going to happen to me. Or Ron. Or Harry." She said the words, but she knew she couldn't promise them for sure. 5 years of nearly dying had taught her that she was on a very reckless course.

"Hermione, please. Promise me. Promise you'll keep yourself safe. I've been out of my head, thinking of what might've happened if Katie had given that necklace to you. No matter what, you have to stay safe. Stay alive…" He pleaded with her, and he was so serious it was starting to scare her a bit.

"Fred, I… I will. I will stay safe. I will make sure everyone else does, too." She tried to reassure him.

He nodded, and took her other hand into his. His hands were warm, and calloused, just like she had imagined in the daydream charm. However, the reality was even more wonderful. He felt safe and strong.

"Hermione, I wanted to give you something. I actually had it Saturday, but since we had that bit of drama...I forgot." His voice had perked up significantly, and he pulled a small bag from his pocket. He turned the little bag over, and out fell a bracelet. It was made with a leather throng, much like the necklace she still wore. In the moonlight she could make out a small silver charm, a rune, though she couldn't read it in the low light.

"It's the rune for luck and hope. I know it's awfully late for your birthday, but we didn't see each other on the day." He told her, and she put out her wrist, allowing him to tie the bracelet there for her. Once it was on, she twisted her wrist, watching the delicate little charm dance in the beams of moonlight. She looked up to thank him, and saw him watching her with a dopey grin, his eyes so crinkled with happiness that they were almost closed.

"It's beautiful, Fred. Thank you so much. I absolutely adore it. But you really didn't have to get me anything. We weren't dating yet." She told him, feeling very self-conscious under his gaze.

"I bought it before I even told you I liked you, Hermione. I would have given it to you, even if you'd turned me down." He responded.

"Oh." Was all she could think to reply.

"Oh, indeed." he said, then he leaned toward her slowly. His face was very close to hers, and she could feel the soft hush of his breath. "Hermione, can I kiss you?" He asked, his voice small and sweet.

Her eyes went wide, but she nodded yes. She leaned forward, closing the gap between them softly. His lips were warm, and his kiss was soft and chaste. One of his hands left hers, and softly cupped her face, and she felt safe and right in this moment.

"You promised me, Hermione Granger. You keep yourself safe. I hope to have many repeats of that." He said with a chuckle as he pulled back from her.

"I promise."


	9. Kissing and Telling (9)

Kissing and Telling

Hermione had Herbology first thing the following morning. Harry had been unable to tell Ron and Hermione about his lesson with Dumbledore over breakfast for fear of being overheard, but he filled them in as they walked across the vegetable patch toward the greenhouses.

"Wow, scary thought, the boy You-Know-Who," said Ron quietly, as they took their places around one of the gnarled Snargaluff stumps that formed this term's project, and began pulling on their protective gloves. "But I still don't get why Dumbledore's showing you all this. I mean, it's really interesting and everything, but what's the point?"

"Dunno," said Harry, inserting a gum shield. "But he says it's all important and it'll help me survive."

"I think it's fascinating," said Hermione earnestly. "It makes absolute sense to know as much about Voldemort as possible. How else will you find out his weaknesses?"

"So how was Slughorn's latest party?" Harry asked her thickly through the gum shield. "Oh, it was quite fun, really," said Hermione, now putting on protective goggles. "I mean, he drones on about famous ex-pupils a bit, and he absolutely fawns on McLaggen because he's so wellconnected, but he gave us some really nice food and he introduced us to Gwenog Jones." "Gwenog Jones?" said Ron, his eyes widening under his own goggles.

"The Gwenog Jones? Captain of the Holyhead Harpies?"

"That's right," said Hermione. "Personally, I thought she was a bit full of herself, but —"

"Quite enough chat over here!" said Professor Sprout briskly, bustling over and looking stern. "You're lagging behind, everybody else has started, and Neville's already got his first pod!" They looked around; sure enough, there sat Neville with a bloody lip and several nasty scratches along the side of his face, but clutching an unpleasantly pulsating green object about the size of a grapefruit.

"Okay, Professor, we're starting now!" said Ron, adding quietly, when she had turned away again, "should've used Muffliato, Harry."

"No, we shouldn't!" said Hermione at once, looking, as she always did, intensely cross at the thought of the Half-Blood Prince and his spells. "Well, come on . . . we'd better get going..."

They began working, and the two boys threw glances back and forth between them at Hermione's response to the Prince's spell. They didn't say anything, however, and Hermione pretended she didn't see their looks of disdain. She still had more reason to mistrust the book's owner than to trust him.

"Anyway," said Hermione, continuing their interrupted conversation after a particularly harrowing moment with the plant that kept trying to attack them, "Slughorn's going to have a Christmas party, Harry, and there's no way you'll be able to wriggle out of this one because he actually asked me to check your free evenings, so he could be sure to have it on a night you can come."

"Oh yeah, another party for you lot that Slughorn just loves, eh?" Ron said, his voice turning as venomous as some of the plants in the greenhouse.

"Yes, it's a Slug Club party," Hermione responded, but she knew it was a mistake as soon as the words were out of her mouth.

"Ooh, the Slug Club. Yes, you're part of such an exclusive club. You're his collectibles, his future prodigies." Ron retorted meanly.

"Look, I didn't come up with the name Slug Club, so don't be snotty with me about it." Hermione fired back, getting worked up.

" 'Slug Club,' " repeated Ron with a sneer worthy of Malfoy. "It's pathetic. Well, I hope you enjoy your party. Why don't you try hooking up with McLaggen, then Slughorn can make you King and Queen Slug —"

Hermione's face turned a bright, boiling red. She sputtered for a moment, as though Ron had smacked her right in the face.

"Not arguing, eh? I knew you liked that pretty boy. I guess you can go have famous futures together, and all that." Ron kept pushing when she didn't respond.

Harry looked on in confusion, but he could sense that Hermione was just about to pop. He tried to put a calming hand on her shoulder, but she chucked it off. Things were about to go very poorly.

"Not that it's any of your business, Ronald, but I have a boyfriend. So I don't think I'll be going to 'hook up with McClaggen', or any other crass thing you might feel you have the right to say about me. If you don't mind, how about you keep your nose on your own love life and not have a go at mine." She kept amazingly quiet for how mad she was, Harry thought. The same could not be said for Ron.

"Boy...boyfriend?" He cried weakly. Lavender Brown, only a table over, turned to look when she heard his voice. Harry was sure they would table this discussion for later, if only to avoid the drama of onlookers, but Hermione was fired up.

"Yes, boyfriend. I have a boyfriend. And he wouldn't appreciate you insinuating that I'm a slag who's ready to jump into the arms of any kid with connections and a pretty face." She said acidly, and Ron had the decency to look ashamed of himself. He looked like he might say something, but Professor Sprout had once again seen them not working.

"If you lot don't get to work, I will separate you." She warned. They quickly lowered their heads and got back to work. No one had any discussion left in them, with the bomb of Hermione's new relationship still hovering in the air.

When the lesson was over, Hermione stormed off ahead of the boys by herself. She was absolutely mortified that she had been baited into saying such a thing. Ronald had just been unbelievable, though. It was like Krum all over again. He was so jealous of others that he couldn't see all the things he had going for himself. Perhaps it was one of the traits that had really drawn her to Fred over Ron. Fred was so much more sure of himself. He didn't get jealous. He didn't take his jealousy out on her, instead of just talking about it.

She avoided the boys for much of the day. It wasn't difficult, for Ron wasn't too keen on talking to her at the moment either. He didn't seem mad, per se, but he was terribly confused. Hermione had the presence of mind to know that she'd dropped a big piece of information on him, and that he still had some feelings for her. Even if he hadn't been ready to admit them. It was clear from the way he had lashed out. Which made it even harder that she was soon going to have to reveal who her "boyfriend" was.

Quidditch practice kept the boys busy in the early evening, and Hermione sat by the common room fire to write a quick note to Fred.

 _Hello!_

 _I told Ron that I had a boyfriend. Surprise! I haven't told him it's you, yet. But I suppose I'll have to do so soon. So, I am writing to invite you to a Christmas party. What better way than to just let him see you, right? I'm so sorry._

 _Temperamentally yours,_

 _Hermione_

Hermione got a kick out of her own sign off, feeling it was an appropriate juxtaposition to his own "troublingly yours". She had set a falling set of dominos in motion, and now she just had to hope that Fred was as ready to come into the light as she now felt she was. She wasn't scared anymore to admit it. She really liked Fred Weasley.

Fred was surprised to see Hedwig tapping at his window in the middle of the afternoon. He had just come up to the flat to grab a quick lunch, so it was a miracle he had even caught the bird on arrival. He knew it was a letter from Hermione even before he saw his name scrawled in her quick, neat writing. He gave the snowy owl a treat and rubbed her on the head as he read through the note.

"Oh Hermione, what a way to do this." Fred said. "It must be tons easier being an owl. No brothers to piss off." He picked up a quill and sent back his reply.

 _Hermione,_

 _Of course I'll go with you. We're in this together, after all. Happy to know you're admitting it finally._

 _Your boyfriend,_

 _Fred_.

Fred grabbed a quick sandwich and scurried back down to the shop, bursting to tell George about this newest development.

Hermione felt like she might just kill Ron. He had been moody and surly with her lately. If he spoke to her at all. He had apparently had a row with Ginny about kissing Dean in the hall. She had spoken to Ginny in the aftermath, and apparently the girl had pressed Ron about his own lack of experience with girls. Hermione felt like this was the worst possible time to point out Ron's lack of girlfriend. It was no wonder that Ron wouldn't look at her.

She had felt that she might adjust to that, until Harry's terrible trick during the Quidditch match. She was sure the boy had put his prized Felix Felicis into the boy's morning pumpkin juice.

"You'll be in tons of trouble. It's against the rules to use it for a Quidditch match!" She lectured Harry quietly.

"I didn't put it in, though." He told her, and Ron was dumbfounded.

"But I wasn't rubbish!" Ron said.

"Right, but it was all you. I just felt you needed the confidence." Harry said, proud of his deception. He hoped this would be enough to take Ron out of his funk, but instead it gave him just the amount of pompousness to throw back at Hermione.

"See, I didn't need any help. You just can't believe I'm any good on my own." Ron boasted.

"Fine, Ronald. I'm sorry I doubted you. You're a god among mortals." She sassed, and then stomped off. She couldn't wait to tell him the truth. One way or another, this petty little fight had to end. She was tired of his treatment of her. She wandered off, not wanting to head to the Gryffindor common room and join in the post Quidditch celebration. She wanted to talk to Ginny, because she was feeling so lonely of late. She dawdled for as long as she dared, then finally headed up to the tower.

Shock was the only way to describe the emotion that washed over her as she entered the Fat Lady's portrait. Shock, because Ron Weasley's face was glued to that of Lavender Brown's. At least she didn't have to worry about his jealousy anymore.

The Saturday of the Christmas party dawned with Hermione once again sitting far away from Ron Weasley and his new face-sucker of a girlfriend. Though she was not in the least bit jealous of Lavender for dating Ron, she had to admit it was hard to see them together. Fred was busy with work, and was no longer a student. They couldn't spend every waking free moment attached to one another. On the other hand, she was glad that she didn't look like some strange set of conjoined twins at every moment of the day.

Ron had been awful to her lately, however. So that tiny part of her inside that craved a bit of mischief took over at breakfast. Lavender and Parvati had come to sit with Harry and Ron, and Lavender had already wrapped herself around Ron, and Hermione was overcome with an urge to give Ron a hard time.

"Hi, Parvati! Are you going to Slughorn's party?" Hermione asked, careful to avoid looking at the couple. She couldn't even bring herself to look at Harry, because she knew she was being a bit vindictive.

"No, I wasn't invited. But you're going, right?"  
"Yes, my date is coming at 8, and then we'll head up to the party together."

"Your date?" Ron asked, pulling away from Lavender abruptly. "I thought you were making that up, just trying to make a scene."

"Well, sorry to say I'm not." She retorted.

"Ooh, Hermione who is he?" Parvati asked, her eyes glowing with the desire for gossip.

"You'll just have to hold on for the suspense. I am sure you'll hear about it by tomorrow. But let's just say he's very funny. A good Quidditch player. Polite and thoughtful."

"Aw, you do like your Quidditch players, don't you Hermione? First Krum, and now this guy." Parvati sighed dreamily.

"I like really good Quidditch players," Hermione said, taking her chance for one last dig. The smile never left her lips. "Well, see you... I have some work to finish up before I start getting ready for tonight"

By the time Hermione reached the Gryffindor common room, she was filled with conflict. She felt more than a little vindicated at taking her little bit of revenge on Ron. However, now she had made the night even more difficult. She sighed, and only slightly wished she could take it back. What had been done was done, though. So she went to finish her last essay before the official beginning of the Christmas holiday.

Author's Note: There is more Fred and Hermione action to come. I just like to stick close to some of the story elements, in order to help this be a re-imagining. Not to mention, this would have been the alternate source of their conflict. Now things will probably divert much further from the original story. (And, the Christmas holiday comes after the party. So we'll have more Fred and Hermione time together.)


	10. A Very Merry Slug Club Christmas (10)

A Very Merry Slug Club Christmas

It was a strange feeling, returning to the castle after his time away. It hadn't been too long, and yet it felt like a lifetime already. His business was doing well, they had made a name for themselves, and he was happier than he'd been in a long time. Stepping foot on the staircase that lead to the entrance, however, brought him a sense of nostalgia. He could feel the energy of the castle, and it was strangely soothing. He hadn't dwelt on it particularly when he'd come to the grounds to see Hermione, but now his mind wandered back to his time of mischief and fun.

"Ahh, good old Hogwarts. You always did give us the best audience." He whispered, touching the stone railing as he walked up the stairs to the entrance hall. "I suppose I'm back for an encore performance. Let's hope all the sparks are romantic ones, eh?"

Fred Weasley was dressed to impress. He had on dark slacks and a forest green collared shirt. He had forgone his robes in favor of a dragonhide jacket. He and George had recently splurged to buy them, since business had been doing so well for the holiday season. In fact, his mail order service was doing exceptionally well. He had to thank old Filch for that one. The moment the old man had banned Weasley products, it was a matter of course for sales to skyrocket. Not to mention, people loved the bits of tricky packaging the twins had come up with to beat the sensors.

"Oi, Fred. What in the world are you doing here?" Ron's voice cut through Fred's thoughts. His little brother stood in the entrance way, dressed as though he were headed out into the cold. He was bundled up in a warm winter cloak, and he had a few packages in his hands. He noticed Fred's wondering look and quickly said, "Oh, I was just heading down to Hagrid. Giving him some gifts from Harry and me. Since they have a Christmas party, or whatever."

Fred nodded, knowingly. "Yeah, I just came in to see somebody." He admitted, not sure how to break the news. He knew his brother could have an awful temper. It was one of Ron's strange dualities. He could be kind and loyal, but his trust was easily broken and he could simply fly off the handle.

"Oh, yeah? I thought you and Angelina broke up. Are you here to rekindle the flame?" Ron asked, smiling. He leaned against the gargoyle that sat guard at the top of the steps.

"Uh, no. That wouldn't be very good of me, seeing as George is dating her now. They've been seeing each other for about two months now." Fred said, knowing his twin didn't mind the shared information. George had already told Molly at a previous Sunday dinner. "I hear you're dating a girl now? Lavender Brown, is it?"

"Yeah, she's really nice. Very pretty, too. And she listens to me, and thinks I'm smart." Ron said, getting lost in his own thoughts. "Did Ginny tell you? I know she was a bit mad at me, but I think we've patched it up now."

"Uh, no. Not Ginny…" Fred said, but at that moment the entrance to the castle was opened once more. Ron turned to look at who was coming out, and in the torch light Fred could see his brother's face turning a very ugly shade of purple. Hermione had stepped out into the night. She had her cloak on, but Fred could see she had tamed her wild hair and had done up her makeup. She looked lovely. Breathtaking, in fact.

"You're her...you two are...Fred…" Ron stumbled over his own thoughts, looking back and forth between his brother and his best girl friend. "Good Quidditch players, huh…" Ron looked like he might just be sick. "Goodnight Fred. Have...fun…" He wandered off quickly, out in the direction of Hagrid's place.

"Well, that could have gone worse." Fred said cheerily, turning to look at his date. "At least he didn't hex me. So maybe it won't be so bad." Hermione nodded, trying to feel his level of confidence. "Well, let's get inside before you freeze. If living with a little sister has taught me anything, it's that you girls don't dress for warmth when you're dressing to be fancy." He teased, holding out his hand to her.

She laced her fingers with his, and turned toward the castle with a light heart. The secret would finally be out, and she could deal with whatever came next. Especially if it was Fred she was going to face it with. He would never let her take it too seriously.

She lead him to Slughorn's office, where the party was to be held. They were running early, so not too many others had arrived yet. The place looked like an indoor tent, draped with red, green, and gold fabric. It shimmered and fluttered softly, as though there was a breeze. Slughorn was already deep in conversation with two of his guests, members of the esteemed Weird Sisters. A man in dark clothes, with long hair stared at them for far too long when they arrived, but soon started to wander the room noiselessly.

"May I take your cloak, Hermione?" Fred asked gently. They hadn't spoken since they came inside, and he had the feeling she was still dwelling on Ron's reaction. She nodded, and then slowly shed her cloak to reveal her outfit. Fred let out a low whistle. She was dressed in a black dress that fit close to the body all the way down to just above the knee, with an open style red dress robe. Her hair was tamed, as he had noticed before, and pulled into a neat braid that fell to her mid back. She wore a golden headband with little pearls set in it, and earrings to match. What made Fred's lips tug into a smile, however, was that she still wore both her bracelet and the charm necklace.

"You look absolutely lovely, you know. For a girl who hangs out with boys, you certainly do clean up." He compliments. She made a face at his words, puckering her face in a way that just made his smile grow even wider.

"You look really nice, too. The jacket makes you look daring, maybe even a bit cool. Channeling your inner Charlie?"

"Nah, you know me. I'm always 100% me. Always Forge, the eternal individual." He responded, doing a bit of a twirl to show off the jacket. She laughed and clapped at his little show.

"Ah, of course it would be a Fred and George style. How could I be so silly?" She said.

"Besides, little lion, I'm always cool. That's why you've fallen head over heels for me!" He said, and scooped her up into a proper hug. She returned it warmly, glad to have him around after all the stress she had endured over the last two months. It had been hard, lonely even, to be at odds with her best friends. It wasn't the first time she'd been the odd one out, but for some reason this time had been more painful.

Looking up at him, she caught a glimpse of mischief in his pale face. Almost as soon as she detected it, it had disappeared again. He began to walk, still hugging her, three steps backwards and four to the right. When he stopped, she felt a strange tingling sensation.

"I might like this Slughorn fellow after all," Fred said, his eyes crinkled with a smile, "He has good taste in magical mistletoe. This is the kind we stock at the store. It likes to compel the person beneath it to get a kiss before they can extricate themselves properly."

"What happens if you don't?" Hermione asked, her eyes wide with curiosity and a bit of nervousness.

"Very unpleasant things, little lion. Tingles that just won't go away. Heart palpitations that just keep getting louder and louder. An inability to think straight." Her brow furrowed further with each claim, and Fred could tell she was really beginning to believe him. Then it dawned on her that Fred was fooling her, and she playfully hit his chest.

"You know, if you wanted to kiss me, you could just say so." She told him. She reached up and grabbed the sides of his face gently, pulling him down to meet her. Their lips brushed softly at first, shyly. Then it was Hermione who deepened the kiss. In the back of her mind, she prayed that she wasn't awkward, and that they didn't look like Ron and Lavender. She ran her hands through his short hair, leaving it slightly mussed, as though he had just dismounted a broom. He changed the position of his hands a few times, strangely unsure of where he should put them. Her shoulders felt strangely formal, her waist too forward, so finally he held onto her arms. He found himself wishing that her hair wasn't tied up.

"Whoa…" Fred breathed as he finally pulled away from her. "You been getting lessons while I've been away?" He joked. She smiled and shook her head no, then gave him another quick kiss on the lips. "Perhaps this is what they mean by absence makes the heart grow fonder?"

"I suppose so. I guess we'll have to limit all our dates to every two months." She replied, faking a prickly attitude. She grabbed his hand and pulled him away from the mistletoe. As much as she enjoyed kissing him, they could save that for later. They were in public, after all.

Her concern for being in public seemed to be well-founded. As she and Fred walked out into the main part of the office, she realized that several people were looking at her. Blaise and his date began to whisper, barely managing to hide their glances. McLaggen looked like he might have just swallowed a toad, though his date seemed to chatter on without notice. One person's gaze fell heavy on her, however. Harry had spotted her across the room and was making his way over with Luna.

"Hermione you look lovely. Red is a good color for you." Luna complemented airily. The girl looked like she wore stars, the way her silver robes glittered and flowed, and Hermione had to admit she too looked stunning.

Harry looked from Hermione to Fred, then coughed slightly.

"Harry, please don't be mad. You know why I didn't tell you-" Hermione began, but Harry cut her off.

"It's ok, Hermione. Honestly, I think it's better this way," Harry said, sounding thoughtful. "I'm not sure I could handle it if my two best mates dated each other. And I definitely wouldn't like it if you broke up. I just hope Ron can pull himself together before too long." Harry, forever a good friend, was more understanding than she had given him credit for. Harry often took sides with Ron, but she found his reasoning strangely diplomatic.

"Well, thank you, Harry." She said.

"Oh, Harry, look! The sweets look wonderful. Do you want to go see what they have?" Luna asked, her eyes looking longingly at the table of food along the back wall. Harry nodded, smiling after the strange blonde girl. He waved to Hermione and Fred and left them alone to go along with her.

"Ok Hermione, we're here at a party. What do we do now? Do we eat? Mingle with important people? Dance the night away with the most embarrassing moves known to wizarding kind? This is your night, so just lead the way!" Fred said as they looked around.

"Let's dance. But perhaps not too wildly?" She said, looking up at him through her long lashes. The music had struck a meandering beat, and Fred happily took the girl in his arms and began to dance with her across the room.

They danced for what felt like ages. Fred held her close when the songs grew slow, and they danced in a warm embrace. When the music picked up, he spun her wildly, making her heart race and her eyes water from tears of laughter. When her feet grew tired, they made their way to the snack table and grabbed drinks to refresh themselves.

"Miss Granger! You look to be have loads of fun," Slughorn had floated his way over to them, since they were neither eating or dancing. "I don't believe I've had the pleasure of meeting your date…?"

"Fred Weasley, co-owner of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes," she introduced with a smile.

"A Weasley, eh? And you own your own business? But you mustn't be much older than Mr. Potter's friend...uh...Ronald?" Slughorn pressed, clearly impressed by the introduction. He shook Fred's hand vigorously.

"That's true. My twin brother George and I were still in school last year, but we felt we'd learned all we needed and decided to branch out on our own. I must say, it's going well. We've been so busy our legs might just fall off for all the running we do. It's still a small business at the moment, but we do hope to be able to expand in just a few years." Fred said, and Hermione found herself beaming with pride at his accomplishments. He and his brother had managed quite well for themselves, all things considered.

"Very good. Excellent!" Slughorn gushed. "And how-" Whatever he had been planning to ask next was interrupted by a very irate looking Filch, however. The angry man walked in with a very disgruntled looking Draco Malfoy in tow, and Slughorn rushed off to make nice.

Across the room, Hermione caught Harry's eye and they shared a look. She shook her head, trying to tell him it was probably nothing. She could already see the glint of his obsession returning to his eyes. In another time, and if his romantic feelings for Ginny weren't already fairly apparent, Hermione would think that some sort of sexual tension hung between the two boys. She squeezed her face as though she had tasted something sour. Even the thought of that was enough to make her ill. The thought of anyone being in love with someone as foul as Draco Malfoy made little sense to her, and she regretted the thought immediately.

"Everything alright, Hermione?" Fred asked softly. He gestured subtly to Harry, who was still watching Draco intently as the two professors squabbled over what to do about his party crashing.

"Everything is...complicated." Hermione replied quietly, careful that Blaise who stood nearby didn't hear her. "How about we get out of here, yeah? This party might get a bit too dramatic for my tastes."

Fred didn't need to be told a second time.


	11. A Moment Alone (11)

A Moment Alone

"And Harry has been keeping an eye on Draco Malfoy ever since…" Hermione finished the long story just as they reached the Room of Requirement. They knew they couldn't just go to the common room, for Ron would probably have found the nerve to pick the inevitable fight.

"Honestly, though, I really don't know why he'd bother to crash Slughorn's party. Although Harry did find out he was a bit sore at not being recognized for his family's greatness." Hermione explained. Fred had paced back and forth, calling the magical room came into view. He held open the door for her with a flourish.

The room, always in tune with the desires of the one who called upon it, was smaller than she'd ever seen it before. It held a few bookshelves, a merrily crackling fireplace, and a few squishy couches and chairs. It looked like a very cozy spot to hang out.

"Well, have you ever considered that Harry might be right?" Fred said thoughtfully. He sat in a most comfortable looking arm chair, and leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. He looked on edge, and there was no trace of a smile on his face.

"What? You mean that Malfoy might be a...might be working for You-Know-Who?" Hermione looked at him as though he'd grown a second head. "Of course not. Why in the world would he be a Death Eater?"

"Why would it surprise you so much? The Headmaster is basically doing the same thing…" Fred pointed out.

"No. No, that's not true. I mean…" Hermione found she couldn't argue. Harry had told her himself that the prophecy had named him as the one who had to finish off Voldemort. Hermione could feel her anxiety rising. It all seemed so real, lately. Cloak and dagger games, spies, necklaces that almost killed classmates. It was all part of war, and yet Hermione had spent so much energy trying to pretend that life was going on as normal. She buried herself in her books, her work, just so she could pretend that everything was ok.

"You're right…" She said at last, stifling an anxious cry. She wiped her eyes swiftly, trying to get rid of the tears that threatened to fall, but Fred had already stood and walked to her. He pulled her into a strong hug, one arm around her shoulders and one gently cradling her head into his chest. "When did everything fall apart so thoroughly?" She sobbed into his shirt.

"When you decided to befriend the "Chosen One", I'm afraid," Fred said in a soothing voice. "It just shows how wonderful you are, though. You've stuck with a boy who's got a literal mark for death. And you don't complain about it. Even though, maybe you should occasionally. Because bottling it up like this can't be healthy."

"I wish I could be as carefree as you Fred. I wish that I could see the world as you do. With rainbow colored glasses and a sense of humor." She told him. He set her at arm's length, and looked deeply into her eyes. The corners of his mouth were firmly set.

"Hermione, I laugh because otherwise I'd cry. You don't think I worry? George and I make jokes and try to keep everything light because we know it's necessary. But I think every day about Mum and Dad. I worry that someone might go after them, blood traitors that they are. I worry about Ron and Ginny, off at school where it seems something bad happens every year. We've almost lost them both! And I worry about you and Harry. You both just seem to jump right into everything that could kill you with reckless abandon!"

"Not reckless...I've always got a plan..." Hermione said, her voice thick with tears, and she let out a small hiccough of laughter.

"You stubborn pain in the arse…" Fred exclaimed, then leaned down to capture her lips in a rough kiss. She returned it immediately. Her hands travelled up to touch his arms. They were solid and strong. His hands found their way to her waist, pulling her in close. He swayed slightly, like a dance to music in his own head. She found it easy to follow along to the unsung rhythm as they swayed and kissed.

Gently he took off her robe, leaving her in just the black dress. Her arms were deliciously bare, and he ran his hand softly up and down her suntanned flesh. He parted from her lips, and began to kiss her bare shoulder with feather light touches of his lips. She shivered slightly, goosebumps rising on her arms. She surprised him by kissing along his neck and up to his jawline. At the back of his mind, he realized she was following the constellation of his larger freckles, giving each one a brush with her soft lips. He made a small sound in his throat.

Her brain felt fuzzy. This wasn't a moment she could plan out or calculate. He kissed and she responded, and it felt almost out of body. He had a wonderful line of freckles that climbed his neck, moving from the hollow of his shoulder to his pulse point, and finally settling along his jaw. She felt something in her stir when he made a slight hum at her touch, and for the first time she felt like she might just understand why people could get addicted to a feeling like this.

"If you keep kissing me like that, I hope you don't expect me to stay on my feet, little lion." Fred whispered, pulling her gently toward one of the couches. He sat down easily, but she hesitated. "Hermione, you don't have to do anything you don't want to. I would just like to kiss you some more without standing. Nothing more, okay?"

She climbed onto the couch, careful to make sure her dress stayed properly arranged, and leaned back in to kiss him. Her hand wandered across his chest, drawing large and lazy circles over the fabric of his shirt. He leaned back against the arm of the couch and pulled them into a reclining position so that she was laying across him. He made a comfortable cushion, she decided, and they dove back into their gentle exploration.

For just a moment, Hermione was able to live in the moment. A moment alone with Fred, and she was able to feel normal as nothing else had allowed her to feel. As they cuddled warmly, staring at the fire and diving back into the occasional breath stealing snog session, she prayed that more moments like this lay ahead of them.

Fred's mine must have wandered to a similar thought at some point, and just as she was falling into the hazy stupor that precedes sleep he asked her a question.

"Hm?" She asked, not having heard him.

"I asked if you wanted to visit over Christmas holiday? I know you won't be going to the Burrow to stay, because of Ron, but I want to see you. Will you come visit?" Fred's face was an adorably sleepy brand of hopeful.

"To the Wheezes? Or to the Burrow?" She asked, waking back up slightly.

"Both? Or either. Whichever you're alright with. I just want to make sure we have as much time together as we can, Hermione. I've been having these feelings lately...maybe it's the streak of intuition we all get from our Great Aunt Periwinkle, but I just feel like you're going to be headed somewhere soon. Somewhere I won't be able to follow…" Fred told her.

"I'm not going anywhere, Fred…" She told him. "But I would love to visit over the break. I'll visit my parents for a bit, then I'll come out. As long as George won't mind."

"If we even see him. Between work and the time he spends with Angelina, he's been gone a lot as of late." Fred confessed.

"Well, either way. As long as he's alright with it, I'll be there." She told him. Then she snuggled deeply into the space between his arm and chest and closed her eyes. Fred pulled her into a tight embrace, and for the first time in a while he fell asleep without any dreams to fill him with worry.


	12. Mutiny Below (12)

**Author's Note: Thank you for your reviews, your support, and your patience. This chapter will finally begin to earn the M rating I've given it. It's just a playful little bit. Don't want to move too quickly, yeah? Also, the chapter title does in fact come from the Ludo song.**

Mutiny Below

Christmas Day fell on a Wednesday this year, and Hermione had told him that she would come to visit on Christmas Eve, so that she'd at least have a bit of time with her parents. She didn't say it, but she was also incredibly nervous about going to the house with Ron still fit to burst. Even with Fred's assurance that neither he, nor Ginny, nor his mother would let anything bad happen, Hermione had still left the Room of Requirement that early Saturday morning with a half-hearted smile.

Fred had returned to the Wheezes, happier than anyone had seen him in quite some time. Verity kept joking that he'd had a brain transplant for how calm he'd been, despite the Christmas rush. And that was true. He felt happy. He felt alive in a way he had not felt since they'd started their business. Things were new and exciting, and he was falling into the throws of what he might even consider calling love, though at least for now he'd contained the thought to "strong fancy".

However, Fred had begun to have a very unexpected side effect from his innocent night spent in the arms of one, Hermione Granger. He was having a bit of a 'mutiny below' as he and his brother had termed it. He was waking up with knots in his stomach, and an erection that sent his fingers and toes tingling. Usually a warm shower and a quick set of strokes would be enough to get it to stop, but by Monday night it was starting to interfere with his ability to work. After the third mis-boxed order George was starting to get a little short with him.

"Look, mate. I know you're not sleeping well, but we've got too much to send out by tomorrow. What in the world is going on in your head?" George said, switching out a fainting fancy for two boxes of puking pastilles.

"Brother, the mutiny has been keeping me up at night. I haven't slept through the night since Friday, and I guess it's just getting to me…" Fred admitted. Verity stopped packing for a moment and looked at him, tilting her head to the side like a puppy.

"Why not just use a daydream charm? It might help you play out whatever your brain is trying to tell your body." She suggested, holding up the suggested product in her hand. She had been bringing a new set of them to be packed into boxes.

"Verity, you're a genius! That'd work wonderful, yeah?" Fred exclaimed, picking the girl up in an exuberant hug.

"You're welcome. Now can you guys stop covertly talking about your unfortunate erections. Or I will definitely start sharing some not safe for work stories about just how well those charms work." She threatened, a cheeky smirk on her face. Fred and George laughed, though they both had the decency to blush, and got back to work.

Fred was exhausted by the time he was able to fall into his bed at the end of the day. They had managed to fill all the last minute Christmas orders and get them out, and Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes was officially closed for Christmas break. He laid on his bed for a moment, savoring the plush and welcoming feeling that his mattress offered to him. Just as he thought he might just drift off to sleep, he felt that familiar stirring in his stomach.

"Ah, well. I suppose I wasn't going to just work myself to exhaustion so easily." He said, though he hardly regretted what he was about to do. It's not as though he hadn't started considering the idea. He had just been trying to keep the thoughts at bay, since they were taking things nice and slow. But thoughts were nothing to be ashamed of, Fred had always felt. Not to mention, Fred wasn't in the business of denying himself the small pleasures in life. And an active imagination was just part of the joy.

He sat up and pulled the small box out of his robe pocket. He threw it down on the bed and got ready for bed. He pulled off his robes, slacks, and shirt, tossing them on the chair in the corner of his room. Then he pulled on some flannel pajama pants bearing the Canon's logo. He leapt back into bed and pulled the little charm out of the box. He hadn't used one of these since they'd finished testing them. He shivered and closed his eyes as the cold metal of the charm touched the bare skin at the hollow of his neck.

 _When he opened them again, he was in the Room of Requirement. He looked down to see the fluffy hair of Hermione, and she was sound asleep on his chest. He smiled, because this was the sight that had greeted him on that Saturday morning. He had awoken, his arm tingling from being trapped under her through the night, and just admired the way she looked. At some point she must have woken up and taken off all her makeup, for there was no tell-tale smudge of day old eyeliner. Her hair was straining against the bond of her braid, finally relaxing from the hold of the potion she had used to straighten it._

 _His hand found his way to that hair, much as it had that morning. His touch was light, but it still caused her to stir. Her eyes fluttered open, and she tilted her face to look up at him. Her face looked relaxed and rested, a state quite rare for the mile-a-minute bookworm._

 _Good morning, beautiful." He said quietly, running his fingers along the soft skin of her face. She hummed slightly, and mumbled what sounded like "morning", but he couldn't tell for sure. She sat up slowly, looking very out of sorts for a moment. "What time is it…?" She mumbled, rubbing her eyes._

 _Fred pulled out his pocket watch and handed it to her. He didn't really care for the time, and the last thing he wanted was a countdown to tell him how soon they would have to part. She looked at it and groaned slightly, then maneuvered herself into a kneeling position on the couch, clearly intending to leave their makeshift bed._

" _Hermione, don't go yet…" Fred pleaded, sitting up and grabbing her wrist gently._

" _Fred, I have to get back before too many people start to talk about where I've been all night…" She retorted, but she didn't pull away from him._

" _What does talk matter? People talk about me all the time, and you don't see me getting all in a panic about it." He told her._

" _Well that's what makes you so cool, right? Your devil may care attitude, and that look that tells the whole world to shove it." She joked._

" _Indeed. I'm glad you can see it." He said, pulling her back down._

" _Fred…" She started, but her argument must've lost steam within her own mind, for she was the one who initiated their kiss. Her hands rested on his chest, pinning him down to the cushions. His right hand still held her left wrist, but his left hand reached up toward her hair. He found the hair tie that was keeping her locks confined and tugged it off gently. Then he slowly, carefully began to run his fingers through her hair to take out the braid. When her hair had returned to its properly wild state he cupped the back of her head. He nipped at her bottom lip, eliciting the smallest gasp from her, and she nipped back playfully._

" _You look beautiful," he said quietly. His voice was deep from sleep. He ran his fingers gently over the soft skin of her arms. She sat up slightly, kneeling once more, and gestured for him to sit up. A look of timidity stole across her features for a moment, then she swung her leg across both of his, straddling his lap. Fred had to stifle a noise, for her skirt was now set dangerously high. He put his hands on her legs, just above the backs of her knees, and looked up at her to gauge her reaction. She smiled, her cheeks tinged a delightful pink in the firelight._

 _Her legs were smooth. His hands travelled up slowly. At first his touch was light, barely ghosting across her skin. She giggled, and the bell-like sound sent a tingle through him. He could feel that familiar stirring in his stomach and in that mutinous region down below. He began to touch her more surely, running his hands back until they cupped the rounded curves of her behind. The fabric of her dress just barely covered it in her current position, and he was tempted to pull the fabric up farther. Instead, he squeezed her bum playfully, and she jumped slightly. Her breath hitched, and she started to play with his hair._

 _Looking up into her eyes, he could see they were dark with emotion. She kissed him deeply and grabbed one of his hands, moving it back to her leg. He broke their kiss and looked at her, his head tilted questioningly._

" _I want...touch me Fred.." She said, her voice thick and deliberate._

 _He didn't need to be told a second time. His hands wandered over the beautiful landscape of her body. Wanting to enjoy all the pleasures of the moment, he moved the hand on her leg back toward her hip and pulled her closer to him so that she was now seated on him, rather than kneeling right above. He could feel her warmth very close to him, and he knew he was very obviously hard. Holding her hip with one hand, he let the other wander up the side of her body until it rested on her breast. She gasped, and he began to run his thumb across the front, feeling her nipple harden through the material of her dark dress. Since the dress was strapless, he could guess with pretty good certainty that she didn't have a bra on._

" _Do you like that?" He asked. She nodded, wordlessly. Her hands began to do some exploring of their own. He could feel her tugging at the bottom of his shirt, pulling the fabric up to expose the skin of his stomach. She began to touch his stomach and sides gently, running her hands along them. In turn, he began to squeeze gently, his other hand coming up to give similar attention to her other breast. She moaned her appreciation, and her hands began to travel further up his shirt, until he found her urging him to take it off. His fingers fumbled to help her with the buttons._

" _This seems wildly unfair, Miss Granger." He whispered once he had tossed his shirt aside. She put a silencing finger to his lips and began to touch his chest. His body was still in fair shape, though he didn't get out to play Quidditch nearly as often these days. His chest and arms were toned, however, from years of swinging the bat at heavy bludgers, and now from carrying boxes of product. Her hands were warm. She dipped her head and began to kiss at his neck and shoulders. His hands found their way into her hair, and he knew she must feel how excited he was. He knew that her core had brushed against his sensitive head twice already. The third time her hips moved in a way that made him believe she was doing it on purpose._

" _Tease…" He moaned out, and she nipped his neck hard. He bucked at the sensation, for he hadn't been expecting her bite. A laugh hummed in her throat, and he could feel it through her kiss. "Merlin, Granger… I can't keep up like this. You're going to make me come in my pants like a horny little teenager." He told her honestly._

 _She stopped kissing and sat back for a second, shifting her hips cheekily as she considered him. Then she moved off of him completely, resuming her spot kneeling on the couch next to him. Her face had a bit of mischief to it, but also a lot of curiosity. "Is there anything I can do to help?" She asked._

" _Ahh, don't say things like that…" He told her, his face growing red._

" _I mean it, Fred. Can I...can I help at all?" She said, and her hands roamed downward. They settled for a moment at the top of his hips, then her right hand moved toward the button on his pants. He watched the top of her downturned head as she undid the button, and tantalizingly moved his zipper down. His hard member, very much with a mind of its own, sprung forth almost immediately, holding his boxers up in an almost comedic purple tent._

 _Suddenly she looked unsure, and Fred felt guilty._

" _Show me what to do." She said, looking deeply into his eyes. "I want to learn, okay?" She looked determined, like this was a particularly difficult spell, or a new incantation._

" _Always the student…" Fred said, but he took her hand in his own. He undid the little button on his boxers, freeing little Fred for all to see. He guided her hand to his shaft and showed her how to wrap her fingers around and hold with just the right amount of pressure._

 _When she started to pump up and down, Fred felt like he could have jumped out of his skin from how good it felt. Her hands were small, but her strokes were long and she kept a consistent pressure that set his nerves on fire. Every time she cupped the ridge, he moaned. He showed her how to twist her wrist, ever so slightly, to change up the feeling. He could feel the pressure building, until his release washed over him with a blinding intensity. He began to tremble as he came._

 _Hermione gasped, jumping back, then giggled. She tried to cover it, but her laughter began to pour from her as uncontrollably as his own release. She had been caught off guard, and in that moment Fred felt an intense rush of feelings for her. He loved her innocence. He loved her willingness to try new things, and learn._

When he opened his eyes he was back in his own room, alone. His heart raced, and he could feel the wetness that coated his hand and legs. He lay on his bed for a moment, catching his breath, then reached for his wand to clean himself up. Finally, sleep found him. He drifted off and slept peacefully through the night.


	13. A L'improviste Apology (13)

A L'improviste Apology

"So where are you rushing off to so soon?" Hermione's mother asked, helping to fold laundry as her daughter began to pack up her things. Mary Granger had begun to feel that her daughter came and went as the wind on a spring day - energizing but brief. "Things are alright, aren't they?"

Hermione found herself glad her face was turned away from her mother, because she had made a sour face. She had tried to keep her parents aware of the situation in the magical world, but she didn't want them to worry. So she kept her involvement to a minimum. However, Mary Granger was no fool. She had noticed the uptick of strange things on the news. She also knew that the quieter her daughter was, the more she was hiding.

"Things are alright, mum. School is busy, and I've been helping my friend Harry with a bit of an independent project, so that keeps us going a bit more than most. I need to get back early, because the project needs some work over the break. So I'll be staying with Ginny again, over at the Weasley's," She chanced a look at her mother. Brown eyes, so similar to her own, stared back with disbelief. She didn't dare say she was going to go stay with a boy. However, she did the next best thing for honesty, and confessed, "I do have some exciting news, though. I'm dating someone."

If her mother had been any more shocked, Hermione would have felt insulted. Mary Granger threw her arms around the girl and squeezed her tightly.

"Is it anyone I might know? That Weasley boy, perhaps?" Mary asked.

"Uhm… well, actually it's his older brother Fred. Only a bit older, really. Ron and I work much better as friends. We're both too stubborn, you know?" Hermione explained, and Mary nodded gravely.

"I understand stubborn men perfectly well! That's wonderful, though, honey! I am super excited for you. He must be very special indeed, to attract the attentions of my wonderful girl." Mary gushed, returning to the folding of her clothes.

Hermione was glad to leave for the joke shop. She felt like every time she went home lately, she might bring trouble back for her mother and father. Word of attacks on muggles, and especially the parents of muggleborns, had been on the rise. She didn't want to cause them any pain. But she couldn't bring herself to cause them worry by giving them a warning or asking them to leave. So she often felt it was better if she didn't stay there for long.

Her father drove her into London, because Fred was going to meet up with her at the Leaky Cauldron. She wondered if she should tell her dad about Fred, but she had a feeling her father would be far less excited than her mother. He was happy to chat about a dental procedure that was coming up in the next week. A man hadn't been cleaning his teeth for the past ten years, so he had a major cleaning and probably about a half dozen cavities that would need filling. Hermione found herself thinking about the odd duality of her life, so caught between her two worlds, even as she listened to his safe and ordinary story.

This thought followed her into the Leaky Cauldron. Her parents were so happy, and their life was so ordinary. Sometimes Hermione found it a bit dull. But she couldn't deny that she was jealous of them. They were happy, and they weren't nearly as stressed. The world, at least as far as they knew, wasn't ending. Hermione hoped that Harry would be able to help keep that true.

A buzzing sound brought Hermione from her thoughts. A tiny flying car whizzed past her face, causing her to leap out of her chair. The sound that escaped her lips was more than a little embarrassing, and it was only made worse by the fact that a laugh barked out from behind her.

"An Aviatomobile. I had been talking to Tom about them a few days ago, and I promised I'd bring one by the next time I visited. He's quite the car expert, actually. Says he likes to watch cars out the window during his free time." Fred explained, retrieving the little flying automobile. It was green and shiny, very similar to a car owned by one of her well-to-do uncles. He handed it to her, and she held it gently and looked at it carefully. It was a good charm, and a cute little product.

"These are nice. Have you given one to your dad?" Hermione asked, gathering her bag. Fred cast a hovering charm on her trunk, and they began to walk toward the Wheezes.

"In fact I have, though he keeps it where mum won't see it. She still gets a bit hot when the topic of that old car comes up. I gave him a little blue one, and he likes to let it fly around his workspace." Fred laughed as he explained.

"I'm sure it's a great reminder of how smart and wonderful his sons are, too," Hermione told him with a small smile.

"He needs more fun in his life these days. He works so hard. There are raids every few days. More people are trying to sell anti-bad luck charms, most of them completely bogus. Others are starting to be bold enough to claim they have serious dark magic artifacts. Most of them are also bogus. But it means dad gets no breaks. Last Sunday we went to visit mum, she said he hadn't been home in a few days. Been napping in his office between raids, trying to keep up with the insane amounts of paperwork." There was a line of worry creased into Fred's forehead, and it reminded Hermione of the worry he had once expressed over them all.

"Will he be home for Christmas?"

"I really hope so. He deserves a nice break." Fred replied seriously.

Their conversation faded after that, and they spent the rest of their walk in silence. It was nice, but also strange. Hermione had never seen Diagon Alley so empty. There was a hush over the street, part snow muffle, part abandonment. Window blinds were drawn along the street. Very few people were out on the cold street, and those who were hurried along with purpose in groups of two or three.

"There was an attack a few evenings ago. Not here in the Alley, but nearby. It's got people a bit freaked." Fred explained as they stepped through the door of the joke shop. The room was dimly lit and empty, as it was closed for the holiday. They moved quickly to the back of the store, following the floating trunk, and walked up the stairs to the flat shared by Fred and George.

"Home sweet home!" Fred exclaimed as he opened the door at the top of the steps, "And it's even clean. Well, mostly. There are some test products on the kitchen table, and my plans are still scattered across my desk…"

"It's lovely Fred. Very homey. Very warm." She told him reassuringly. She took in the sight of their bachelor pad. The main room held both their kitchen and living area, but it seemed spacious enough. Another staircase led, Hermione was sure, toward the rooms that the twins slept in.

"I've got the room upstairs set up for you," Fred told her, and put a hand out to stop her argument. "I don't mind taking the couch, and I'd never be able to sleep if I took the bed instead of you." As if to underline his point, he continued to lead the trunk up the steps. Hermione followed after him, figuring she might as well see where she'd be spending the night.

Hermione hadn't given Fred's room much thought, but even if she had, she would have been wrong. Where she might have expected the heavy orange Quidditch decorations of a room like Ron's, instead Fred's room was decorated in blues and greens. A vast forest was painted across the walls, sleeping under a deep blue sky filled with stars and planets. His bed was covered in pillows and draped with a warm fluffy blanket. It was a place of calm. It reminded her of the camping trips she used to take with her parents when she was young. It reminded her of safe and fun times with her parents.

Her face must have reflected her thoughtful musings, because Fred's face pinked, almost indignantly. He gestured to the room, but his voice caught in his throat and he began to cough.

"Are you alright?" Hermione asked once Fred had caught his breath.

"Yeah, fine," he said shortly. He situated her trunk at the foot of his bed, then turned and walked out abruptly.

Hermione watched his retreating figure, stunned. She felt confused, and the sudden emotional shift felt creepingly familiar. Why in the world was she so good at pissing off the men of the Weasley family without even trying? As she took off her coat, she ran through the moment in her head. What had she done?

When she felt she had given him time to cool off, she walked carefully down to the main level. Fred had things zipping around the room, putting themselves away. His desk was clear, the dishes were dancing themselves clean in the sink, and the pillows on the couch were fluffing themselves. Hermione could see Fred scowling, even in profile, as she descended the final step.

"I give up, Fredrick Weasley! What did I do?" She said it in a playful tone, hoping to budge his temper.

It didn't work. In the most spectacular showing of how much he was truly Molly Weasley's son, he ignored her and the cleaning intensified. The dishes flew violently to the cupboard, a fork and several spoons darted menacingly into a drawer. Even the papers from his work space shuddered angrily as they folded themselves away.

"You know," she muttered, "I'm really glad I dodged the bullet of your brother's temper."

"My apologies, Princess! I am sorry things aren't up to your lofty standards!" Fred exploded, rounding on her with a red face and a look of anger she didn't know that either of the twins was capable of.

"What are you on about? Everything is fine. At least, I thought everything was fine. You're acting like an absolute nutter!" Hermione raised her voice only slightly, and she felt a wash of heat rush through her.

"Oh yeah, that face you made certainly said 'fine'," he replied, though his anger seemed to be faltering.

"Face? What face did I make? When?" Hermione asked, now thoroughly confused.

"The sour look you had in my room. I'm sorry it's not fancy enough for you," he spat.

Hermione could have laughed from the absurdity. "Sour? I certainly don't think so. I was surprised, actually. I was expecting bright colors, or Canon's logos. It had nothing to do with the room, or even a judgement of your flat." She explained.

He processed this silently, but she could see his face beginning to soften.

"After all these years," she approached him slowly, taking his hands into her own, "you really think I care about the things you own?"

"Woof," he breathed out, his anger dissipating, "I'm sorry Hermione. I dunno what it was...I just, I built your visit up in my head, and then I thought…" he trailed off.

"A familial trait, for sure," she ribbed gently.

"Yeah, I guess so."

She stretched up and kissed him gently on the cheek, all forgiven. She knew money was a pervasive Weasley sore spot, and she couldn't hold a grudge over a flare of temper over the subject.

"Actually, your room is very nice. It reminds me of camping with my parents." She told him. Her voice caught strangely on the last word.

"That face," Fred pointed out. She had done it again without realizing.

"Oh…" she laughed uncomfortably.

"Hermione, what's wrong?"

"Nervous about my parents, you know?" The words were out of her mouth before her brain had really processed them, and yet she knew it was true. "I'm not exactly invisible to the Death Eaters. Friends with Harry Potter, and a mudblood, and all that nonsense. Thinking about old times… it just makes me wish things were still simple. Still safe."

"Yeah, I understand that," Fred told her. He pulled her into a comforting hug. Hermione held back tears of worry and frustration that threatened to overwhelm her.


	14. Tension and Release (14)

Tension and Release

A daydream is nice, but reality is always better. That's what Hermione thought as she cuddled with Fred. A good book in her hands, and his warm chest against her back, Hermione felt calm for the first time in months. She had been trying, rather unsuccessfully, to ignore the various stressors in her life. In this moment, though, they were blissfully evaporated. Fred was reading over her shoulder, and combing his fingers gently through her curls.

George was at Angelina's for Christmas Eve, meeting her parents and elder brother. He had popped in at around 10, having slept in, then rushed off to see Angelina, with a promise they would all paint the town together after Christmas. Hermione found herself looking forward to the normalcy of a double date.

"Are you going to be alright, seeing Ron tomorrow?" Fred asked, breaking the tranquil waters of their silence.

She leaned her head back onto his shoulder and gave a large, exasperated sigh. Without looking, she put her bookmark at her page and tucked her book into the couch.

"That excited, eh?"

"You think he'll be so bad, with it being Christmas and all?" She asked.

"Hoping for a Christmas miracle, dear girl?" She could see his smile as she looked up at him.

"Maybe. I just don't want to ruin everyone's Christmas." she told him.

Fred's expression shifted. His mouth drew to a tight line, and his eyebrows sank towards his eyes. "You won't ruin anything. My little brother has to learn at some point that a temper tantrum will not always win him the day."

Hermione reached up a hand to pat his cheek sympathetically. It was a nice reminder of how uncomplicated being an only child could be.

"If George and I got something new, he cried. If mum spent a day out with Percy or Ginny, he whined about it. When dad came home, exhausted, he had to get attention first or he'd sulk…" It was obvious Fred had been holding on to these feelings for some time. "And with you-" He cut off suddenly, leaving the words floating in the air.

Hermione sat up and turned to look at him properly. "What about me?" When he didn't respond, she began to poke and prod his stomach and chest, making him squirm. He began to laugh, and grabbed at her hands to try and stop her tickling attack. "What about me, Fred?"

"Okay! Alright, let me breathe!" Fred choked out between his laughter. She stopped, waiting expectantly for his answer.

"Well, around the time of the Yule Ball, we were talking and I offhandedly mentioned I thought you'd be a fun date. He got really odd about it, and finally asked you. You turned him down, obviously, because of Krum. And he was more than pissed. Acted like you had thrown out the script and started a new play. He made it pretty clear how he felt about you. Which is why I never…"

"You thought about asking me to the Yule Ball?" Her eyes were wide.

"Well, yeah. The Bulgarian's not the only one with a good eye, you know. And I could have kicked myself when I saw you in those periwinkle robes!" Fred laughed as her expression morphed into one of adorable embarrassment.

"Well, Ron never bothered to tell me any of what he apparently made abundantly clear to you. I'm not a mind reader, and honestly he can be so hot and cold…" Hermione huffed. Fred nodded his agreement. He could feel a growing unease, however. Talking about the possible outcome where she had ended up with Ron instead made his stomach ache.

"Besides," she continued, "he can't be too upset. He started dating Lavender before I even mentioned to him that I was seeing someone."

"I wouldn't be so sure. Ron likes attention, and maybe she just gives it more freely than you do. And now, because of me, he might try harder to make you jealous," Fred reasoned.

Hermione crawled into his lap and threw her arms around his neck. "What would I be jealous of? I have you, and you are pretty great. And he should know, after all this time, that I don't go chasing the shadows of possibilities."

"You don't, at that," Fred agreed, returning her hug happily.

Hermione couldn't sleep. First she kept imagining how angry Ron would be. She found herself deeply regretting how she had tried to make him jealous, because now she would pay for the comment. She had just been so angry, and he had been so mean lately for no proper reason. And poor Harry, always caught in the middle of their drama, even as he had much bigger things to worry about.

When thoughts of Ron subsided, she found herself returning to thoughts of her parents. She had seen the Daily Prophet on the kitchen table. Another muggle family had been found dead, and the ministry was sure that foul dealings were involved. Maybe not Death Eaters, but certainly someone emboldened by the return of the dark wizard. The word "pure" had been written in blood over the door. Hermione woke with a start from a dream where the same damned word was painted over the door of her childhood home.

She crept down the stairs quietly, surprised to find Fred wide awake and pouring over a book and several pages of notes. She smiled, a warm sensation gathering in her stomach as she watched his intense expression. He raised one eyebrow, and ran the feather of his quill across his chin thoughtfully.

"You're so cute when you're thinking," Hermione told him as she stepped into the dim light of the enchanted rock lamp on his desk.

"Then I must look like hell most of the time," Fred joked as he finished writing a note. He then set his quill into the inkwell on the table and stretched his arms upwards, fingers interlaced. As he brought his arms back down, he held out his hands to her, inviting her into a hug.

As she held him, she looked curiously at his notes. He was studying the properties of Felix Felices, and taking notes on its application to objects. As fickle as luck itself, the results seemed variable at best, and more than a little inconclusive. She could see why he looked so frustrated.

"Have you tested different materials?" she asked, as he leaned his head against her stomach.

"Mostly metals so far. After Christmas I'll try fabrics, though I doubt it will matter..." his voice was muffled as he spoke into her t-shirt. His voice buzzed against her skin, and she squirmed. He gripped her tightly and stood, picking her up.

"Oh no, put me down Fred Weasley," Hermione commanded.

"Party pooper," Fred grumbled, giving them both a spin before setting her down. She punched him playfully, and he gasped dramatically, clutching his arm.

"It's 2 o'clock! Why are you accosting me instead of dreaming beautiful dreams?" He asked, still clutching the offended arm.

"Couldn't sleep," she said, sitting on the arm of the couch.

"Worried about tomorrow?"

"No...Maybe," Hermione confessed reluctantly.

Fred held Hermione's face in his hands, and leaned down to kiss her forehead tenderly.

"Thank you. I-" she cut off abruptly, and pulled back from him, tipping herself over gracelessly onto the couch.

Fred's eyebrows disappeared beneath his bright red bangs, and his lips quirked in a questioning smile. She shook her head mysteriously, and couldn't bring herself to make eye contact with him. Fred chose to let her keep her secret, for now.

"Hermione, it will be alright. You have me. And Ginny. And probably even Harry. He won't be mad for long. Not at you," Fred assured her, kneeling on the floor in front of the couch. She reached out and took hold of his hand. He leaned in and captured her lips. Her hair was fanned out around her, making her look weightless. Angelic, he thought. Then a small voice he rarely heard chimed in: peaceful, like death.

A small moan against his lips pulled him back from such thoughts. Hermione was here, alive, safe. She was warm, soft, responsive. His hand drew circles across her stomach, playing with the blue fabric of her sleep shirt.

Something shifted suddenly behind Hermione's eyes. She sat up, and he could see determination, or maybe even something that Fred would have deemed mischievousness. Her hands wandered playfully downward toward the hem of his shirt, then pulled back up slowly. Inch by inch she revealed a valley of freckles stretching across his stomach, then chest. He lifted his arms, allowing her to remove the shirt, which she casually tossed to the floor.

"Hermione…" he breathed. Her name felt heavy on his tongue. Fred could feel his heart pounding, his stomach bubbling with nervous excitement. She grabbed his hands and pulled, a silent invitation for him to join her on the couch. She leaned back, and he lay on top of her. They had found themselves in similar situations before, snogging themselves silly and breathless. This felt different, however. She had never taken off his shirt, for one.

"Fred, I…" for the second time that night, Hermione cut herself off suddenly. Fred smiled at her. Hermione Granger wasn't the shy type, for sure, so whatever she was thinking had to be important. He had a feeling he knew what she wanted to say, but he could be patient. He just had to stop himself from saying it first, and stealing her thunder.

Instead, Fred distracted himself with thoughts of how lovely Hermione was. Her troubled tossing without sleep had thrown her regularly unruly hair into a state bordering on the ridiculous. He carefully slipped his fingers into her hair, cradling her head tenderly as he moved in for the kiss. Nibbling softly at her lip earned him a small laugh, and Hermione's hands found their way to his face and hair as she deepened the kiss. He loved the feeling of her soft hands cupping his face, but she had set him on a course for craving much more intimate touches. He guided one of her hands away from his face, almost as if to say 'try again'.

Fred felt she was teasing him as she began to run her hand gently over his shoulder, first. Then her hand trailed down his arm, fingers ghosting lightly over his freckled skin. He growled out a playful warning, and she laughed and continued her slow touches.

"Hermione, if you're just planning to tease me…" Fred began, and Hermione quieted him with a kiss.

"You have to learn some patience, Freddie. Nothing worth having comes in a hurry." They both thought about what she said, and it sent them into a small fit of giggles. "At least, I hope not?"

"That's quite a thing to say, Miss Granger. What experience would you have with things coming in a hurry?" Fred teased, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

"Oh hush…" she told him, her face growing slightly red. Her hands began to wander across the skin of his back. She rubbed down, stopping just above his backside, then raking back upward gently with her nails. It was gentle enough to be soothing, but it drove Fred crazy. He could feel the pressure building in his gut, and he was sure she could feel his excitement.

"Fair exchange?" Fred asked, tugging gently at the hem of Hermione's shirt. She nodded, her eyes dark with wanting. He pulled her shirt up, and she lifted her arms up to help him get it off. His eyes feasted upon the sight before him. She wore a grey bra, lacey and without padding. He tried not to get ahead of himself, thinking of what lay beneath. Her skin was free of blemish, and much lighter on her stomach. She was not the type of girl who wore two-piece bathing suits, so this skin didn't see the light of the sun. Her stomach was thin, but lacked the toning of someone more athletic, which made sense for someone like Hermione who spent her time reading rather than running.

"You're beautiful, Hermione," he told her. He ran his hand along her side and down to her stomach. Her skin was soft and smooth, and the callouses on his hands caused her to erupt in goosebumps.

"Thank you. You are too, dear," she told him in return, then kissed him deeply.

After a few minutes of heavy snogging, and not-so-innocent groping, the two were once again finding their clothing restrictive. Hermione suggestively untied the strings that held up Fred's shorts and pushed them down just a bit. He took them off, leaving him down to his boxers. His arousal strained to escape, but a button held it back. In return he pulled away her sleeping shorts, leaving her with a pair of panties that matched her bra. They too were lacey, and he could see the dark shadow of curls through the flimsy material. His hand travelled down, between her legs, and began to rub the nub of her clitoris through her underwear. The feeling caused her to squirm uncontrollably, and it took everything she had not to close her legs around his hand. The feeling was unfamiliar, but it felt electric. The look on her face made Fred smile, and he found the blush creeping across her features to be hot.

"Fred, please...please, Fred…" her voice came across in short little pants as she tried to catch her breath. The jolt in Fred's stomach was intense, hearing her say his name in that tone. He began to move his fingers in gentle circles, growing faster as her breath hitched. "Fred, I feel so, I feel like I'm…" She began to make sweet little gasps, and her eyes closed as she threw her head back.

"Come for me, darling. Slowly, though. Nothing worth wanting comes quickly, right?" He said, and slowed the ministrations of his hand to a tantalizingly slow pace. Her breath slowed for a moment, and she arched her back. Speeding up again, he wanted to watch her come apart. It didn't take long for him to get his wish. Her body finally rocked with her orgasm, and she cried out his name as she came.

As her breathing slowed, he pulled her into a tight hug. She whispered his name a few more times as she came down from the high, and snuggled into his chest. Fred couldn't say he was disappointed in the outcome of the evening. He knew she wasn't ready to go any further, and he wouldn't dare push her beyond what she was ready for. He knew he was falling, hard. Hermione had his heart, all of it. He had all the time in the world for moments like this, as far as he was concerned. No need to rush something that would last.

"Fred, I love you…" she mumbled into his chest as he carried her up the stairs to his room.

"I love you, Hermione," came his reply.

"Stay with me?"

"Of course. Now get some sleep. Tomorrow will be a long day, I'm sure," he told her, climbing into bed beside her. She slept with her back tucked against his chest, and as Fred drifted off to his own sleep, he thought of how perfectly they fit together.

Author's Note: Sorry that the chapters have slowed a bit. I am a bit busy with work and theater, but really this chapter was slow because I wanted to write it with a delicate hand. I know the lemony aspect of this story is really low, but I am a sucker for the slow moving intimacy. Hope you're all still with me in this. I do have plans for the big moment. But I want it to be just that, a big moment. (Also, I wanted them to declare their love before it was tied into sex. So there).


	15. Christmas With the Weasleys (15)

Christmas with the Weasleys

It was 9 in the morning when the familiar *pop* of Apparition broke the silence of the small flat. Hermione peeke an eye open against the sunlight that filtered through the gauzy blue curtains. She listened as George moved about his room, likely changing into clothes suitable for greeting a new day.

"Hey, lovebirds," George's voice came wafting through from the room on the other side of the wall, "We told mum that we would go in early to help clean a bit. So get your lazy bones up."

Fred groaned and pulled Hermione into a tight hug. His hair tickled her neck and she moved to get up. Fred looked up at her with puppy dog eyes, urging her not to get up. When she continued to move out of his reach, his features became etched with betrayal at her eagerness to leave the warm comfort of the bed's embrace.

"Time to wake up and face the music," she told him. He groaned again and pulled the covers over his face. She shook her head and reached absently for her wand on the bedside table. Twisting her unruly curls into a knot on top of her head, she used the wand to hold her hair up and out of her way until she was ready to deal with it.

Hermione pulled open her trunk and hummed "Yuletide Wishes" while she decided on what to wear. The chill in the air lead her to choose a warm, soft red sweater and a heavy corduroy skirt. Brown and red argyle knee socks would complete her warm and cheerful outfit, along with a scarf her mother had bought her for Christmas which featured red and white stars on a shiny gold fabric. By the time she was pulling on the scarf, she was softly singing the chorus of the song.

"You don't sing nearly enough," Fred told her. She turned to see him sitting up and watching her. His eyes were still puffy with want of sleep, and his orange-red hair stuck up at all odd angles.

"For good reason, I promise," she replied.

"I don't think so. You sound nice," he told her pointedly, dragging himself out of bed. Stumbling over to her, he planted a kiss on her forehead before walking off with a mumble about showering. A subtle adjustment of his boxers helped her to the logical conclusion, and she found herself thinking guiltily of the previous night. She hadn't returned his attentions in equal measure the previous night. With a smile, she thought how she'd have to make it up to him next time.

She sighed deeply, her smile retreating as her thoughts turned back to getting ready. Finally, it was time to take care of the rat's nest that was her hair. She took it down from the quick, messy knot. The thought of tearing through her hair with a comb made her eyes water. Just this once, she reasoned, a bit of magic could be alright. She waved her wand and said the incantation she had heard girls like Lavender and Parvati use regularly to tame their morning bed head. Running her fingers through her hair, she could feel that all the tangles were gone. Her hair had a slight wave to it, rather than being absurdly curly.

"Uh, Hermione…?" Fred's voice came soft and unsure from behind her. She turned to see him standing stock still, his towel still wrapped firmly around his waist. He had obviously returned to grab his clothes, but something had stopped him.

"What's wrong, Fred?"

Fred pointed at her, and he couldn't keep his lips from curling upward into a cat-like grin. When she quirked her head like a confused puppy, he tugged at a strand of his own still-wet hair.

"Oh, I just straightened it. Is it bad?" She could feel regret growing in the pit of her stomach.

Instead of answering her question, he asked one of his own. "Hermione, where is your wand?" His grin grew even wider.

She held up her right hand, and for the first time she really looked at the wand she was holding. It was the same color as her wand, but the length and design were all wrong. As she contemplated it, she realized it wasn't weighty enough, and it looked painted and false. Hermione squeaked and dropped the trick wand as though it had burned her. She turned toward Fred's mirror and gasped in horror. Her dark chestnut hair was an unrecognizable pale golden blonde. It reminded her of Fleur's sister, Gabrielle. Or worse, of Malfoy. She looked absolutely ridiculous.

"Fix it! Fix it right now, Fred Weasley!" She demanded, whirling on her laughing boyfriend.

Fred, much to his own discredit, could not stop laughing even to tell her it was out of his control.

"Out of your control?" Her voice was level, almost quiet, "What do you mean? You invented them, didn't you?"

"Yes...but, the joke can't be undone. It will reverse after six hours...but no sooner," Fred had to catch his breath between bouts of laughter as he finally managed to explain, "Unless you go to St. Mungo's, but it's hardly worth all that."

"Six hours? What if someone did something painful?" she cried, sitting on the bed with a defeated huff.

"They really can't. Those wands only do cosmetic tricks precisely because they're long-lasting," he explained. He grabbed some boxers from the drawer below his mirror as he spoke and began to dress himself as she sputtered.

"Why did you leave it in here?" she asked, her eye dark with keen suspicion.

"We tested a batch before Christmas, in time for holiday orders. I must've forgotten it was in here," he told her, though he pointedly did not make eye contact with her.

"No way to reverse it?"

"Not a thing to be done, I'm afraid."

"Great. Really, just wonderful…"

"It's not so bad. Just takes getting used to."

She shot him a look that made him glad he had already put his pants on. Smartly, he continued to get ready in relative silence. Hermione pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes, torn between thoughts of revenge against Fred and how much this mishap was going to add to an already stressful day.

"Let's go, guys. We don't want mm to be mad at us," George's voice called from the hall.

Hermione's face was set in grim determination when she and Fred came down to the kitchen. George took in the sight of her, but he chose not to comment. As Fred took hold of her hand and they all spun into apparition, she could have sworn she heard them both laughing.

Ginny could not catch her breath she was laughing so much. She had been lucky enough to be in the living room when the twins and Hermione had arrived. So, she had witnessed the comedy gold first hand.

Molly Weasley had looked like a cat who bit a lemon, sour and disdainful. She had tried so hard to compliment Hermione on the change. The relief in her face when Hermione told her it was the unfortunate result of a joke had sent Ginny into such peals of laughter that she'd had to run upstairs. Hermione, red faced with embarrassment, followed after her.

"Ginny, please…" Hermione said after some time, and the girl tried to reign in hr mirth. She managed to quiet herself to the occasional giggle.

"At least mum was so distracted by your hair that she didn't make a fuss about you guys dating," Ginny pointed out.

"There will be plenty of time for that, I'm sure," Hermione told her, sitting at the window seat. She could see George and Harry bringing chairs up from the shed, trudging through the snow that had built up on the garden path. Fred was dragging something up from the garden that looked small but heavy. Charlie was walking up the path to the kitchen door, carrying several parcels wrapped in brown paper. Mrs. Weasley ran out to meet him, engulfing him in a loving hug. The scene had a calming effect on Hermione for a moment, before her brain interjected her worry.

"Where's Ron?"

"Peeling potatoes, I think. He was being sulky earlier, and mum got a bit mad at him, so she set him up in the kitchen. Harry was with him for a bit, but they've been a bit snippy with each other," Ginny explained. Hermione didn't have to ask about the source of their tempers.

Snippets of conversation floated up from below, then suddenly she could hear Ron's voice as clear as day.

"Why is she here? I didn't bring Lavender. George didn't bring Angelina. Ginny didn't bring her flavor of the month," he spat harshly. Hermione could hear Ginny make a small growl from where the girl sat on her bed. They both drew closer to the door so they could hear how this conversation would shake out.

"Ronald Weasley, I do not appreciate your tone or your temper. Hermione has spent Christmas with us before, anyway. She is not here as a girlfriend anymore than Harry is here as somebody's boyfriend. They are friends. They are practically family," Mrs Weasley huffed in reply. They heard another low voice make a comment. Hermione figured it was probably Charlie.

"I don't know. They kept it a secret," came Ron's reply.

"Well off course you deed," Fleur said lightly, startling the two girls. "Eef this ees 'ow 'e reacts," she stepped into the room, leaving the door ajar to listen. Hermione felt a strange rush of affection for the French woman, and found herself wondering if this wa how she felt about the talk over her and Bill. Did Fleur often lurk at stairwells to hear if people were talking about her? Did she often feel the black hole of guilt and sickness that now settled heavily in Hermione's stomach?

Charlie's low rumble didn't quite make it to the room once more, but Hermione could guess what was said by Ron's response.

"I'm not! I have Lavender. I just think my own brother should have the decency to be honest with me! And her, supposed to be one of my best friends."

It was George's voice that wafted up the stairs next,"That is funny, considering how often you talk about her like she's already your girlfriend. Except you never bothered to ask her."

"What are you talking about? I don't do _anything_. I didn't _do_ anything! And what, are you gal pals now? Chatting and doing each others' nails?" Ron's voice rose, and Hermione could picture his face growing cherry red.

"Don't do this, Ron. Don't play the victim. You know damn well why they -"

"George, language!" Mrs Weasley interjected.

"- why they didn't tell you! Because you act like you've been robbed. Betrayed, even. She can still be your friend, but you've no right to claim her as anything more. You missed your chance. Sorry." There was a moment of silence, then Mrs. Weasley exclaimed, "Ron!" and something hit the table. Ron yelped, then silence fell on them once more.

"I told you before, brother, that if your hands couldn't remain polite we'd fix 'em for you," Fred's was devoid of its normal cheer.

"Guess we'll peel the rest of the potatoes for you mum," George said, his voice now barely audible, as though he were moving toward the kitchen.

Footsteps fell heavily on the stairs, and Ron paused in the doorway. His right arm was held tightly to his chest, his hand balled in a fist he could not relax.

"Happy, are you? I'm not jealous or any crap like that, by the way. Just tell me the truth. Act like a friend, Hermione," Ron snapped.

"Sod off! Are you really going to tell me how to be a good friend?" Hermione felt her control slipping from her as she stepped toward the door. "You were being a toad when you thought someone was just flirting with me. Someone who wasn't your brother."

"You're ridiculous," he sputtered unconvincingly.

"Right. I'm always ridiculous and you are never wrong. Which is why it always comes to this. I am sick of it Ronald. Just sick of it…" She tried to steady her voice. Her face was heating up, and she suspected if she wiped her eyes, she would find them damp.

Ron opened his mouth to retort, then he paused and really looked at her The wind no longer in his sails, she saw his lips twitch, almost smiling.

"Trying a new look, Hermione? Trying to be more feminine?" Ron asked.

"Oh yeah, I hear it's the latest fashion. And you know I'm always chasing what's _popular_ ," she spat back acidly.

"You look stupid," he told her, his face returning to a dark scowl.

" _You_ look stupid!" she pointed towards his arm.

Turning on his heel, he stormed up the stairs to his room in the attic. Hermione stood, stunned, in the doorway of the room she shared with Ginny and Fleur. She could feel tears running down her face.

"Ron will calm down, Hermione. He just takes longer than most," Ginny told her reassuringly. She and Fleur hugged Hermione, allowing her to cry out her frustrations.

Dinner was an exercise is careful avoidance. Hermione stayed near Ginny, trying not to give Ron more reasons to glare at her. Though her hair was finally back to normal, Ron gave a fake hair flip and laughed, talking to Harry. Harry shook his head and shot her an apologetic look. For a moment, Hermione felt like she was a vulnerable first year again, with those two boys as her bullies instead of her friends. She quickly cleared away the cloud that was trying to settle in her chest.

Fred and George sat by their father, on the other side of Ginny, catching up with the Weasley patriarch and Remus who had joined them for dinner. She could hear them talking about the recent troubles near Diagon Alley.

"At least it wasn't Greyback. He's been up with the Northern pack, causing trouble with them," Remus said quietly.

"Dead isn't better than anything, Remus," Mr. Weasley argued. Fred nodded, and George played with his napkin nervously.

"Arthur, you can't possibly understand how foolish that sounds," Remus told him, his face one of ageless wisdom.

"What about your friends? What about T-" Arthur was cut off mid-word as Remus held up a weary hand.

"We aren't talking about me, Arthur. I am just saying a spell is a lot less painful than what Greyback does. Whether someone is left dead or alive," Remus told him pointedly. Several others had started to pay attention to their conversation, and Arthur took the hint to steer talk in a new direction. He turned to ask the boys how the business was doing.

Hermione turned her attention to Mrs. Weasley, who was talking to Bill and Charlie. It was a transparent attempt to keep Bill distracted from Fleur, but the French girl sat with a quiet patience, and Bill held her pale hand the entire time. Ron was talking to her non-stop, and Fleur conveyed polite disinterest. Harry focused on eating, and it looked as though his thoughts were in a world as far from this one as they could be.

"You both have been so busy at work. I was sure you wouldn't even make it, Charlie! I am so glad you're here. How do you boys find the time for anything these days?" Mrs. Weasley asked, her voice overcoming Hermione's contemplation of her best friend.

"Same as Dad, I guess," Bill confessed, and glanced at Fleur with a smile, "We must make the most of the time we have."

Charlie nodded as he chimed in, "And I like my job. My co-workers are like family, so it never feels like work." Their conversation continued on like this for some time, and Hermione's thoughts drifted off under the influence of the warm and heavy food.

Ginny and Hermione were playing a game of Exploding Snap with Fred and George, when a knock at the door interrupted the relatively serene evening setting. Mrs. Weasley left her cozy spot near her husband, her singing turned to humming, and went to answer the door.

"Percy!" She gasped, stepping back to let her son enter the house. He was followed by a tall, imposing, lion-like figure.

"Merry Christmas, Mother," Percy said after a painfully awkward silence. He stood stiffly as Molly threw her arms around him in a tight hug.

Scrimgeour stood in the doorway, leaning on his walking stick and smiling at the reunion of mother and son.

"Please forgive the intrusion," The Minister said when Molly turned to look at him. She tried to preen herself, to look more put together. "Percy and I were in the vicinity - working, you know- and he couldn't resist dropping in and seeing you all."

Percy looked like this was quite the farthest thing from what he wanted. He made no movement to greet anyone, and in fact was going to great lengths to avoid everyone's gaze. Fred and George set down their cards and stared at Percy. Mr. Weasley's face was tight, and the muscle in his temple stood out as he clenched his jaw.

"Please join us Minister, Percy. We were just enjoying some dessert and family time. Or, if you want, I can put together plates-"

"No, no, my dear Molly," Scrimgeour said. "We are only staying for a few moments. I'll just take a stroll around the yard while you catch up with Percy. This young man can show me around your lovely garden."

"Hermione shared a look with Harry. This was the truth in the visit. Percy was merely a smoke screen for a chat with Harry.

"Yeah, all right," Harry said after a moment. Lupin and Mr. Weasley both moved to say something, but Harry reassured them with a gentle word. He grabbed his jacket and walked into the garden with Scrimgeour close behind.

"Without the minister's cheerful assurances, it quickly became clear that Percy didn't want to be here. Hermione put her hand on Fred's clenched fist, in an attempt at comfort. He shook his head, fire burning in his eyes. This was not an emotion easily calmed.

"How are you, Percy?" Molly asked, breaking the awkward silence.

"Busy, mum. We're constantly making appearances, doing interviews, meeting with-"

"Important people," Fred said.

"Ah yes, looking like peacocks," George chimed in.

"Trying to look effective, as though the ministry was actually doing something," Fred added.

"Keeping up the act, right?" Ginny tacked on.

Percy's face nearly purpled with rage as Charlie, Bill, and Fleur covered sly smiles. He took a deep breath before responding with a restrained calm, "Better than playing jokes, or chasing after the tales of every cursed object that runs across my desk." He paused for a moment and looked around pointedly at the male members of his family. He smiled slightly, though there was no happiness when he spoke again, " Scrimgeour will end this, mark me. Not Dumbledore. Not some teenage boy."

Arthur stood and pounded his fist on the table in frustration. "How dare you come back into this house and speak to any of us like that. I work to protect people. Your brothers bring joy in this dark time. And Harry? Hasn't the boy been through enough without the Ministry pulling and pushing him in every direction? What does the Minister want from him? Why are you really here?"

"That's official ministry business, and none of yours."

Whatever Arthur planned to say when he opened his mouth was lost as a bowl launched violently across the room and struck Percy in the face, hard enough to knock him to the ground. Mrs. Weasley screamed and stooped to check on him, but he pushed her away her helping hands and picked himself up. Fred, George, and Ginny all had their wands drawn, looking furious and threatening. With a curt nod Percy turned and stormed from the house, pride and glasses shattered.


	16. Ringing in the New Year (16)

Ringing in the New Year

Despite her love for the Weasley clan, Hermione was glad to return to the relative calm of the flat above the Wheezes. After Percy and the Minister left, Mrs. WEasley was inconsolable. Nothing her husband or children said could make her feel better about the rift in her beloved family. Not to mention, her youngest four children could not stop the verbal abuse of their wayward brother, forcing her to a sad and early bedtime.

The party had cleared shortly after. Bill and Fleur went for a walk around the garden for some alone time before they parted for bed. Charlie and Remus had chatted for a bit, then the two left to catch Portkeys to the places they needed to return to. Harry and Ron went to bed, and Harry left Hermione with a promise to catch her up promptly, once things had settled down.

It would have to wait until their return to school, however. The day after Christmas the twins returned to their work. For the first few days, Hermione wandered around the shops that lined Diagon Alley. She would stop in at the book shop, often chatting with the owner. Or, she would wander around the Apothecary, looking at the various potions ingredients, though she didn't pause for conversation here. The owner's eyes followed her, but he never spared a smile. Then she would take her lunch at the Leaky Cauldron, reading a book or watching the people come and go.

It was an eye-opening experience, watching people rush through their daily grind. Lips were pursed tightly, drawn into grimaces that were not only tied to the grey and depressing weather. People did their business quickly, rarely lingering for long chats. Regulars would talk with their heads down, and left after one or two drinks. Hermione could count on her fingers the number of times she had heard laughter while she whittled away her lunch hour. All this in spite of the fact that it had been strangely quiet over the holiday. Perhaps, Hermione considered, it was the quiet that had set people on edge.

Mr. Weasley had been right, however, in his words to Percy. People could not help but smile at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. People of all ages would stop and read the witty advertisments. The store was always packed with people. They stopped in to enjoy a good laugh over the products, and the boys were selling things almost as quickly as they could stock them. More than jokes or tricks, the boys were in the business of happiness. She enjoyed watching people's faces transform as they moved about the kooky building.

As they approached the New Year, Christmas spirit was beginning to wane. December's penultimate day dawned with the month's last ditch efforts to impact the year. The air had turned bitterly cold. Icicles hung from store fronts like the teeth of a dragon, and wind whistled through the narrow lane. All but the bravest and most determined folk stayed in their homes, and the streets looked deserted.

Hermione spent the day helping Verity restock the shelves and take inventory for the shop, taking advantage of the lull in business to get to know the beautiful girl. Hermione found she quite enjoyed the time she spent with the sassy blond. Verity regaled her with stories about some of her less cordial customers.

"He wandered over from the Cauldron, already out of his tree, and it was nearly close. He stumbles in the door and wails about his bad luck with women, yeah?" Her eyes were sparkling with laughter as she recounted the event, "He wants to buy our entire stock of love potions! When I go to help him, because both boys found this to be too good a chance to pass up, he goes absolutely bug eyed. His tone changes entirely, and he tips himself over to one knee and asks him if I'll marry him. Put him out of his misery, he says!"

Hermione laughed. She could hardly keep her hold on the "Magic 8 Balls" they were stocking in the Muggle Tricks section. "So, what did you tell him? Did you let him down easy?"

"Ooh, the bloke was rough Hermione. There was certainly no way I'd marry him, that's for sure. He looked like a pig and a house elf had a son! It was all I could do to keep my face in order. I could hear Fred and George tittering like a pack of school girls, but I was all sweetness. I took him over to our section of sour trick potions and wished him well. If he ever caught on that they weren't the right product, I can't tell you. He bought us out, and stumbled back into the darkness. But at least a sour mouth won't leave the next girl begging to kiss him. Or worse!" Verity was almost out of breath as she finished her tale, and Hermione clutched her side in pain. She could tell why the boys had hired this blonde bombshell, and it had everything to do with her sparkling wit and quick thinking.

Stories like these kept the mood of the day light, and Hermione couldn't remember the last time she'd laughed so much. Verity was an absolute treasure. The day flew by so quickly that Hermione was surprised when it was time to close. Even cleaning went quickly, and with finality George hung a sign on the door to warn people about changed hours for New Years Weekend. Then everyone trouped upstairs and collapsed around the kitchen table.

Verity put her head on the table, exhausted. George leaned back, using the chair to crack his back with a satisfying sound. Fred went to the fridge and pulled out a butterbeer for everyone, bringing the bottles to the table. When he finally took his own seat, he pulled Hermione's legs up onto his lap and rubbed gentle circles on the skin left exposed below her skirt and above her socks.

In the comfort of quiet companionship they passed a few hours. Verity left at 10pm, and George set to work calculating orders for products that were running low. Fred and Hermione sat up at the table, her with her book, and him with his research work. The evening was beautifully normal.

"FRED! GEORGE! WHERE ARE YOU?" The cry of fear cut through Hermione's sleep. Fred had hopped out of bed in an instant, wand already firmly in hand. He grabbed a shirt, but did not take the time to pull it over his head before leaving the room. Hermione's heart raced as she pulled a sweater on over her tank top, and she kept her ears strained to hear sounds of danger or struggle. She double checked the wand she grabbed before she walked into the hall.

She descended the stairs of the flat, wand at the ready. The skin at the back of her neck prickled uncomfortably as she made her landing in the stockroom. She could now hear familiar voices.

"Merlin's furry ball sack!" George yelled, his voice strangled with emotion.

"Those fuckers…" Fred sounded stunned.

" I am so glad you guys are alright. I was so worried."

Whatever Hermione thought she would see did not live up to the scene revealed when she opened the stock room door. The shop looked like a tornado had run through it. Shelves were dashed to the floor, contents spilled in all directions. The windows were all smashed to bits, glass glittering jewel-like on the ground, allowing the cold air to pour in.

The twins and Verity stood in the center of the shop, observing the destruction with fearful disbelief. Verity was hugging them both, tears in her bright blue eyes. Fred still had not put on his shirt, which now lay forgotten on the floor at his feet. George kept opening his mouth wordlessly, like a fish gasping on shore.

Moving into the room, Hermione could see that the injury was accompanied by insult. Burned into the walls, floor, and even the ceiling was an unending chorus of "blood traitors". She clapped a hand to her mouth, stifling a gasp.

"Hermione, mind the glass!" Verity picked her way over to the girl carefully, and threw arms around her in a tight embrace. "I am so glad you're safe. Fred and George must have quite the talent for wards and shields. I can't believe this happened to the shop…" She continued to babble anxiously and Hermione tuned her out, and she patted the girl's shoulder mindlessly.

Fred and George were standing by the counter and talking quietly, then suddenly both whirled their wands in a spell. Hermione registered slowly that it was a Patronus. Two beagles, ghostly and shining, appeared suddenly, then ran off in separate directions to fulfill their given quest. With that accomplished, the twins moved across the room, dodging glass and overturned shelves to make their way out to the street.

Careful not to step on the glass with her bare feet, Hermione followed them outside. The boys stood on the cold street, staring at the shop with pitiable horror. The outside of the building looked scorched and torn. Siding fell off and littered the sidewalk. The words "blood traitors" were joined with another phrase out here: "Mudblood lovers".

"Oh boys," Hermione breathed. She was at an utter loss for words, and her heart felt like it was plunging into her stomach.

A _***pop***_ of apparition startled all of them. Remus and Bill had arrived. Their faces wore a mask both relieved and stricken. Bill pulled his brothers into a tight embrace, and for a moment the twins looked like scared children rather than adults. The moment passed away as smoothly as if Hermione had imagined it.

"Your father couldn't get out of work, but he says he will speak to Kingsley as soon as possible. Tonks might be able to take your case. Any ideas what might have happened?" Remus spoke quietly. His tone was soothing, and Hermione felt her hands relax from the tightly balled fists they had formed.

"No. Nothing tripped our alarm ward. I guess they must've dispelled it. Luckily the wards on our flat are much more complex," George replied thoughtfully.

"I don't think Death Eaters," Fred said, strangely diagnostic, "even our twin-bond ward may not have stood to them. Also, they don't play to humiliation like this. We'd be a hole in the street. Torn from our beds and gone."

"Never to be heard from again," George chimed in.

"A blip in the annals of history!" Fred added.

"More like the a-"

Bill silenced the joke before George could finish it, but the tension was already lifting. Remus and Bill each had half-smiles on their faces as they went into the store.

If either man was surprised to see Hermione, they did not let on. Bill gave her a quick side hug, and Remus put a hand on her shoulder in brief comfort. She was glad at how quickly they had arrived on the scene, presumably at the call of the boys' Patronuses. The two men looked around for what felt like hours, but they saw nothing that posed a present danger. Nothing was waiting to enchant, or curse, or even explode.

"It was probably just meant to scare you, but…" Bill began.

"We can't just pack up and quit!" George exclaimed, his brows knit angrily.

Hermione's heart was heavy with fear as she listened to them, but the twins' conviction reminded her of Harry. She fought to keep the monsters of the abyss from overwhelming her. She could feel the monster lurking just beyond her vision, waiting to snatch her beloved friends away. Waiting to destroy her.

The rustling of wings caught the attention of all as a post owl delivered the _Daily Prophet_. Verity went to pay the bird, allowing habit to comfort her. When she saw the paper, however, her mouth gaped in shock. She turned the paper toward Hermione, and pointed at a picture of Fred and Hermione walking through Diagon Alley before Christmas. The headline read

A Taste for Fame and Fortune?

Hermione Granger, Muggleborn witch and best friend of Harry Potter, is at it again. Two years ago we saw her playing with the heart of our favorite golden boy. Mr. Potter seems to have forgiven her, but her taste for following famous wizards seems to be continuing. She has since been a known companion of the Bulgarian Seeker Viktor Krum, though their ill-matched romance was short lived.

Now she has been spotted in the arms of one of the entrepreneurial brothers of the Weasley Wizarding Wheezes fame. The shop, which popped up only about a year ago now, has been doing extremely well. Through partnerships with international charms experts as well as a personal genius for invention, these boys have been giving the old Zonko's a run for its galleons.

It seems Miss Granger has set her sights on the devilishly handsome Franz Weasley. An insider report suggests she may have hoodwinked him into it, since he was recently in a relationship with a very sporty witch with a beautiful smile and great personality.

All this comes in addition to the many snubs Miss Granger has been handing out to the "little boys" at her school, with whom she would stand to gain little fame or fortune.

"I know she was sweet on his brother for a while, but now that he's happily taken, I guess she had to move to the next best thing," a girl mentioned in a recent interview.

"She was leading me on. Said I would be a great Quidditch star, and that she loved Quidditch players. But then she was out the door when I didn't make Keeper." Another boy, Cormick McClaggen mentioned.

 **Article continues on pg.12**

"It's from a few days ago. It must've run the day our advertisement ran. That's the only time we get the Prophet," Verity explained, watching Hermione's face go through several shades of pink and red.

Fred and George crowded around Hermione to see the article. Hermione's hands shook as she read the exact name she was sure she'd see.

"Rita Skeeter...How dare she…' Hermione felt as though something inside of her had snapped.

"Isn't she the woman who covered the Tri-Wizard Tournament, and the one who wrote about Harry last year?" Fred asked, putting a comforting arm around Hermione's shoulder. Hermione shrugged it off, afraid of her own anger to let him too close.

"Yes! She's an absolute cow. She just likes to cause trouble," Hermione cried, "and look what she's done! It's one thing to spread lies about my reputation. I don't care about any of that, but this-" She gestured to the battered room," - this is your livelihood! Someone came after you because of her. Because of me…"

Bare feet ignored and coat forgotten, Hermione stormed off. She could barely hear the cries of concern that followed her as she picked up her speed. She ignored the cold spreading over her feet and up her legs. She knew she was being irrational, emotional, but she couldn't stop the crushing burden of the pain that she'd caused. Fred and George wouldn't have been targeted if it weren't for her. Mudblood- the word echoed like a scream in her ears, an unholy chant, a maddening curse. She wandered aimlessly for quite some time, until she found herself staring down the dark portal of Knockturn Alley.

A woman with wild grey hair still peppered with black was the only person visible down the dark street. She was wrapped in shapeless layers to protect against the cold, and doubled over a trash barrel while she cut the talons and beaks off of eagles. She tossed the the birds away without a second thought when her task was complete, and the pile that formed in the wagon at her side was becoming rather high. Hermione felt herself shiver from something that had very little to do with the cold. A piercing glance told Hermione that the woman had noticed her, but the old witch made no movement toward her.

The sound of a door and the sight of a new person caught Hermione's eye. A tall figure in a black cloak stepped out from a shop, an unsavory looking apothecary. Even before his pointed face met hers in surprise, Hermione had recognized Malfoy's light blonde hair. Their eyes locked and she was surprised to see confusion wash across his face instead of contempt.

"Why are you...here?" He spoke softly, and he sounded unsure and more than a little afraid.

"It's a public street, Malfoy! I am allowed, even if you don't like it!" Her patience was long gone.

He stepped toward her and grabbed her arm, steering her away with surprising gentleness. She was so surprised by this action that she didn't pull away until he stopped walking. They were safely back in Diagon Alley, she realized at the edges of her mind.

"What do you think you are doing? You of all people are not safe over there. Especially dressed like an idiot. An obvious mud-" He was lecturing her, gesturing to her shorts and lack of shoes. She was surprised he didn't finish his favorite insult.

"I...I dunno, alright?" She stammered, her face hot.

"Looking for trouble, no doubt. But Saint Potter won't always be around to save you," He told her, and the mention of Harry twisted his face like he wanted to spit.

"Or you, I suppose?" She shot back. She was stunned to see him nod briefly, his face almost kind. It was gone, though, quickly replaced by the Malfoy sneer she had come to hate so deeply.

"Skeeter's readers are child's play, Mudblo-od." She noticed the word catch on his tongue, and drip like acid between them. "Keep your frizzy head down, or you may not keep it at all." He turned away abruptly, marching back toward the direction they had come from.

Confused, tired, and beginning to feel the cold, Hermione realized that things had truly gone from bad to worse. The safe and wonderful world of magic that had invited her in now looked very like the jaws of a wolf, ready to swallow her down. And she was feeling very vulnerable without her red cape of protection.


	17. Forgive and Forge On (17)

Forgive and Forge On

Fred ran to her the second she returned to their street. Wordlessly he threw his arms around her in a hug that spoke volumes of his desperate relief. She returned the embrace as tightly as her cold and tired arms would allow, hoping they could find the strength her voice could not.

"Fred, bring her inside! She won't be much of a girlfriend if she's an icepop!" George's voice came from the doorway of the shop. They wandered in, Fred holding her hand tightly.

Hermione was surprised to see that much of the mess was already fixed. Tonks and a few other Ministry employees were taking a statement from Verity as Fred and Hermione entered the shop. The shelves were righted, though much of the stock was gone. George called Fred over to check the inventory list before they submitted a claim for all the products beyond repair. He left her with a small smile and a squeeze of her cold hand. Another man, bedecked in boisterous robes and wearing a press badge kept flashing pictures. Hermione saw the flash of the camera illuminate an empty shelf, and it set off the last explosives that had positioned themselves around her heart.

"Get out, you leech!" The words hissed out before she could even think to stop them. "Stop building your career on the tragedy of others!"

Everyone's head swivelled in her direction, eyes wide and mouths wrapped around various vowels of surprise. She knew the man was only doing his job, and his report would probably warn others of the potential danger. She knew that the press didn't just sing the songs of tragedy. But she couldn't see anything but garrish jewel-toned robes and cat-eye glasses. They were all beetles, scavengers picking at wounds.

The man's eyes narrowed and his shoulders slumped. This was not his first time heaping blame for his job. He put his camera away and left with a curt nod of his head. His tired eyes connected with her own, so filled with anger, and then he was gone. Hermione ran up the stairs to the flat, tears streaming down her thawing face, and fear freezing her heart painfully below her ribs.

A gentle hand on her shoulder tugged Hermione from deep and fitful sleep. Still sore from crying, she sat up and found her face inches from Fred's inquisitive gaze.

"No wonder Ron's afraid you'll hex his balls off, little Lioness. You practically spark when you're upset," he teased gently.

She smiled, trying to mask the guilt that he had handed her. She placed her hand over his where it still lay against her shoulder. "I am sorry."

Fred shook his head and pulled her into his strong arms. The want to cry scratched desperately against her lungs and throat, but nothing could get past her dry eyes. She tried to stay in the moment, enjoy his warm embrace.

"Mum wants us to come back to the house," Fred whispered against her hair. "George and I, we've talked. We're going to take a break for a few weeks. Wait for new inventory, Wait for Tonks to move the investigation forward."

"A break," she repeated dully.

"A week or two. Just to rebuild." He cupped her face with both hands and pulled her up so she would look him in the eyes. "We are coming right back. We can't let the laughter die, Hermione. We can't let the smiles run and hide, afraid of the dark."

"Brave…" It was the only word she could think to say in her surprise.

"And probably idiotic," Fred added with a wide smile, "but there are things worth the risk, I reckon."

"I suppose so," she told him. The words were thick and her tongue felt like cotton and ash in her mouth. It had been a matter of course for her to waltz into danger with Harry and Ron, perhaps because each time it had seemed accidental. They had stumbled into the wrong place. At the wrong time. But now wrong seemed to dog their steps, cling to their shadows, knock at every door. Now, they walked willingly into battle. Soldiers. Dumbledore's Army, through and through. She understood that she was risking everything to stop the spread of evil, and after all she had been through, it seemed like just another day in her life. She had just never wanted to consider that anyone else would have to sacrifice toward that same end. She just wanted the people she loved to stay safe. Like her parents.

"Will you come back to the Burrow with us?"

She nodded, and together they rose to gather their things.

Molly Weasley had not even allowed them to recover from the eerie sensation of slipping through the air from one place to another before she had pulled all three of them into a bone crunching hug. Fred could feel his mother's tears on his arm, and George was sure the whole neighborhood could hear her carrying on.

"Always good to know the death we should really fear-" George began.

"Is punctured lungs and suffocation," Fred finished with a struggle.

Molly sniffed in disapproval, but her arms did loosen ever so slightly.

Harry and Ron appeared in the doorway with a clatter. They made eye contact with Hermione, and wordlessly they came forward to surround her in crushing brotherly love. Ron broke this contact for only a moment to seize Fred's arm.

"Sorry, brother," He said, his face sincere and his voice quiet.

"Forgiven. Forgotten." Fred nodded.

The warmth of the crooked Burrow welcomed them.


End file.
